


Monsters Don't Cry

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Stories from the Cupboard [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Oklahoma, Sheriffs, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 159,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: A crash in the night, and a young girl lies dead in a freshly plowed field.  Can her father, the county sheriff, rise above his parental feelings and help the boy responsible, even to the extent of sharing  the rest of his family with the teenager?  Or is the girl's father just awaiting his opportunity for revenge of his daughter's death?





	1. Introduction

Honeysuckle Memories

One honeysuckle spring,  
You taught me many things,  
Of love that couldn’t be,  
And life I could not see:  
That roses can be tucked  
and plucked  
where roses never grew,  
Off honeysuckle vines,  
that twine,  
and bind,  
my heart to you.

Through golden summertime,  
We shared a love divine;  
And now that you are gone,  
The mem’ries linger on  
Of honeysuckle days,  
and ways,  
we swore our love was true.  
And honeysuckle vines,  
I find,  
remind  
me, dear, of you.

No rose of any kind  
Grows on honeysuckle vines.  
If it bloomed, it would be rare  
With a blush beyond compare.  
But nothing’s left of love,  
my love,  
but honeysuckle vines  
And the honeysuckle rose  
that grows  
to show  
you once were mine.


	2. Lori

George Adams raised his lanky frame and peered through the windshield into inky darkness. “Wonder if any of the kids are out road racing tonight?”

Hal Endicott, Sheriff of Carroll County, Oklahoma, glanced at his chief deputy. “On Saturday night with you and me both out of town? What do you think?”

George grinned. “Hell raising supreme!” George was built like a gaunt sparrow and was twice as wily as good sin, or so his sassy wife claimed. In a few short years he could retire. Hal would miss him.

“I expect Curly and Maynard have their hands full back in Beardsley. The ranch kids and the farm kids probably came into town, too.” Hal guided his squad car with the practiced ease of a man who’d driven one for years, which he had. “School starting always gets them stirred up that way. Before long now, we’ll be seeing black marks on the road where they’ve been out here turning kitties.”

“Especially out on the quarter.”

“Don’t forget the flats. That’s a good spot, too.”

George’s Indian black eyes sparkled with humor through his glasses. “You should know. Seems I can remember another young buck giving Pete Rollins a rough time around these parts about thirty years ago.”

“He was a good sheriff, George. Of course, I had to grow up a lot before I realized that. And when I did, I became his deputy. But before that, it was open war between him and me.”

“This road wasn’t much more than a wagon track then, but that didn’t seem to slow down that blue car of yours.”

Hal’s round face broke into a boyish grin, then he puckered his sensuous lips. “Shh! Nobody’s supposed to know that, especially the high school kids.”

“Us old timers remember, though. Many was the times I felt sorry for Lester trying to keep up with you and Leland. You boys were regular hellbenders. Your dad had a hard time trying to keep you under control. Me and Lucy had the same trouble with Jim when he got to be that age. Guess we wouldn’t have wanted him to be any other way, though. Kids with no gumption aren’t worth a damn. But most are regular little hellions.”

“Yeah, they all go through it, George. Some are worse than others, but they all go through it.”

“Some like that new kid, Rick Medina?”

Hal sobered. “There you went and spoiled my evening.”

George grinned. “Come on, Hal. You’ve chased Medina several times and just have given him a talking to. You’re not down on him or any other kid. They know you’re not going to haul them in, and they respect you for it. We’ve got real good kids in our little town.”

“Medina’s different. He’s trouble. I can feel it.”

“Fred Wakely’s grandson can’t be all that bad, even if he is from the city. Wanda Wakely was a real nice girl when she was growing up here in Beardsley.”

“Yeah, but then she married that Median character, and they left town. I understand that he did a hitch in the Navy, then worked in heavy construction until he got injured on the job. And look what happened since they came back from California. Wanda ran away with some trucker, and Bert Medina’s become a drunk.”

“And a brawler, too. I’d hate to have Bert back me into a corner. He’s probably got seventy pounds on me, and it’s all mean muscle and beer belly.”

“You don’t have to tell me about him. I knew him before he ever moved to California to join the Navy. He’s mean to his family. I expect that’s why Wanda left him. Some upbringing for their kid!”

“So? It makes life rough for the Medina boy, but why is that any concern of yours?”

Hal frowned. “Because he wants to date Lori.”

“Lori? Your Lori?”

“Yep. Came right up, bold as brass, and asked me. Would you believe it, George? That kid had the gall to ask if he could date my daughter. Imagine! My Lori running around with the likes of him.”

“It’s a wonder he asked. Nowadays, kids don’t.”

The police cruiser rounded a sharp hill, and its lights lit up a bright yellow car. Chrome sparkled in Hal’s headlights.

Hal dimmed his lights. “Speak of the devil.”

George nodded with appreciation. “Medina might be a wild kid, but you sure gotta admire his taste in cars.”

“But not in names. He calls that thing Honeysuckle Rose.”

“Seems I remember another young hellbender who called his jalopy My Blue Heaven.” He grinned as Hal grumbled under his breath beside him. “One thing’s for sure, though. He’s right about that car being a honey.”

“At least he’s going slow enough now. Good thing, too, with all these curves in the road. I’ll pass him as soon as we hit a straight stretch, and then he and I can both relax.”

George’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t want to race, eh?”

The meandering road cleared the base of the hill and pointed sternly toward the next hill. Hall swung out to pass.

The bright yellow sports car shuddered, squealed its tires, and left the squad car deserted in the middle of the road.

“What the?! Why that!” Hal accelerated and his own tires squalled. Overhead, red lights flashed into life on the roof of the squad car, and the siren screamed to life. “Did you see that, George?! Did you see that?! That kid’s had it, George! This time, he’s going to jail!”

George grabbed the dash to keep his balance. “I’ll be ground for cornmeal and fried for mush. What made the kid take off like that?”

“I don’t know, but I sure as hell know what’s stopping him!” Hal stomped the gas pedal, and the cruiser lunged.

George shifted his meager weight and leaned forward with the excitement of the race. “Look at that baby go!”

“I swear, George, when that kid gets out of jail, he’s going to be a shaking, gray-haired, old man!  
”  
George beamed at Hal. “Like me? That’s how long I’ve been in jail. On the right side of the bars, of course. I started this job when I was nineteen.”

Hal’s eyes never strayed from Medina’s taillights pinpointing the way down the Oklahoma blacktop ahead of them.

“Maybe you better slow up, Hal. We’re going pretty fast, and Dead Man’s Curve is coming up. If Medina drives off the road, we might follow him in all this darkness.”

“I want that kid, George.”

“I know, Hal We can pick him up back in Beardsley. He won’t be that hard to find. He hangs out at the drugstore.”

“I want him now, George!”

“You won’t lose your temper, will you, Hal? I’m not big enough to pull you off the kid if you do. You won’t do anything you’ll be sorry for later, will you?”

Hal’s hands gripped the wheel. “I. Don’t. Hurt. Kids.” His quick temper was cooling. “But right now, though, I’m considering calling Medina an adult.”

“The curve’s coming up, Hal. Let up. Give him some room. Don’t make him pile up that car. He’s just a kid. You don‘t want his death on your conscious.”

Much to Hal’s chagrin, he eased up on the accelerator. George was right.

Beside him, George took a deep breath in relief.

In the headlights of Honeysuckle Rose, the highway banked sharply to the right and dove between two hills. But instead of checking its velocity, the yellow flash pulled away from the sheriff’s vehicle and plunged madly into the curve.

“That kid’s crazy, George! He’ll kill himself!”

“He’s taken this turn fast before, hasn’t he?”

“But never at this speed! I thought that kid had some sense. He won’t be able to hold it steady. Lordy Lord, I hate to pull bodies out of wrecks! Why doesn’t he slow up?!”

“He will now. He’s hitting the bend.” George’s calm voice didn’t match his grim face.

But Honeysuckle Rose never decreased speed as it swerved wide to the left side of the road and hugged the opposite lane.

“I’ll be damned! Look at that, Hal! He’s going to make it!”

“When I get my hands on that kid, I swear I’m going to kill him! I’m going to break his fool neck! Anybody could be coming on the other side!”

“He’s going to make it, Hal! Look at that! He’s going to make it! One thing for sure, that kid can sure handle that wild car.”

But as Rick’s car straightened, it dipped its nose at a crazy angle and careened for the grader ditch.

“Blow out! Oh, Lord, Hal! Look at that! He‘s losing it now!”

Yellow paint flashed in the dark night. Clouds of dust rocketed into the air. The Charger rolled twice across a freshly plowed winter wheat field. The car’s doors popped open and spewed out two people as easily as a wet hound dog shaking off drops of water.

The patrol car screeched to a stop, and the two policemen tore out of the squad car. Hal and George stumbled over furrows to where Rick Medina knelt shaking an unmoving girl. Her dark hair rippled in long, shimmering waves to the ground.

Hal gasped and stopped. George saw his pale face, then drew his breath in sharply, too. The girl was Lori Endicott, Hal‘s daughter.

“Let me have her!” Hal roared. Gently, he pulled Lori away from Rick and cuddled her against his chest. Her dark hair spilled over his arms as he brushed the strands off her pale, lovely face. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t be scared. Daddy’s here. You’ll be all right, angel. I won’t let anything hurt you.” He looked up at George. “Call the hospital. Get Doc Murphy. Notify Maynard and Curly. Tell them we’ve had some real bad trouble out here.”

George scurried toward the patrol car.

Rick leaned forward and reached for Lori’s limp hand.

Hal pulled Lori closer. “Don’t you touch her! Haven’t you done enough already? Why was she with you, anyway?”

Rick’s frightened eyes stared at Hal, then at Lori.

“You’d better pray that she’s going to be all right, Medina. I’m going to have your hide for this. Riding into town with that bright yellow car and turning my little girl’s head. Why don’t you leave decent folks alone? I warned her about you, but she wouldn’t listen. Now, look what’s happened.”

Rick wiped sun-bleached hair off his forehead. His blue eyes widened with fear. In the nightmare flashing of police lights, his delicate face looked more like a frightened woman’s and not that of a seventeen-year-old boy’s.

George picked his way across the torn up wheat field. “Here’s a blanket for Lori. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.” He looked at Rick kneeling on the ground. “How are you, son?”

“Forget about him!” Hal roared, as he tucked the blanket around his daughter. “He’s scum. We have to think about Lori.” Hal rocked Lori’s body in his arms and smoothed her hair. “It’s all right, baby. You just rest now. Save your strength. The doctor will be here soon. He’ll fix you all up, and then I’ll take you home to Mother. Monday, we’ll go over to Rock View and buy that new dress you wanted. Just you and me. I promise. You’ll look so pretty in it. You’re going to be just fine.”

Lori’s sightless eyes stared past Hal’s shoulder.

Rick glanced up at George. They both knew that Lori didn’t care about a new dress, or anything, anymore.

The screaming ambulance roared to a stop, and Dr. Russell Murphy leaped out and ran toward Hal.

“Sheriff? How badly is the girl injured?” The tall, dark-haired doctor whose grandfather had been born in a tepee stopped and adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses as he frowned down at father and daughter. “Lori? Lori was hurt?”

“She’s unconscious, Doc, but I know you can patch her up.”

Murphy knelt and touched the teenage girl. He drew back. “I’m sorry, Hal.”

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?! She’s going to be okay. A few days’ rest and….”

“No, Hal.”

“But, but, but, look! There’s no blood. There are no cuts. There are no bruises. She’s not hurt. She just fainted. Sure, that’s it! She just fainted. She got scared and fainted. She’ll wake up in a few minutes, and she’ll be okay. You’ll see, Doc. She’ll be okay. Won’t she, George? George? Look at me, damn it!”

Murphy touched his arm. “She’s gone, Hal. Listen to me, she’s….”

Hall shook his head. “No, no….” He pushed Murphy’s hand aside. “Leave us alone then if you won’t help.”

“Hal, she broke her neck. She died instantly. That’s why there’s no blood.”

“No! No, you’re wrong. You’ll see.” He shook his daughter who lay so still. “Lori. Come on, Lori. Wake up and show him that he’s talking crazy.”

Lori’s head rolled to the side and flopped loosely.

Hal looked horrified. “Lori? Lori?! My, God….” He held her body toward Murphy. “Please….”

“It’s no use, Hal. I can’t help her. Nobody can.” He touched Hal’s shoulder again. This time, Hal didn’t push the hand away. “If it’s any consolation, she didn’t suffer.”

Hal looked up with bewildered eyes. He could barely speak. “She’s, dead? My baby is, is, dead? But, but, why? Why did she have to die? Why here? Tonight? Why Lori?”

“I don’t know, Hal. I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry.”

The doctor rose and signaled for the ambulance attendants to bring a stretcher. Then he bent to check Rick.

The stretcher bearers stopped in front of Hal.

“We’ll take her now, Sheriff,” one of them said softly.

Hal stared dully at the two men in white. Who did they mean? Then he knew that they wanted Lori. He pulled her closer. “You can’t have her!”

“Sheriff….”

“Go on! Leave us alone. I’ll take care of my little girl. I won’t let you touch her.”

“Please, Sheriff….”

“No!”

Dr. Murphy heard the argument and turned to Hal. Pity washed over Murphy and the attendants as they watched the grieving father trying to shelter a child he could no longer protect.

Murphy placed a sympathetic hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Let them take her, Hal. You’ve done all you can for Lori. I know it’s hard to do, but it’s time to let go.”

Gradually, Hal released his savage hold on Lori. The attendants knelt and gently lifted her body from Hal’s outstretched arms.

Murphy squeezed Hal’s arm. “Sid and Ron will take real good care of her. You know that. They’re fathers themselves.” He stood. “Watch him, George. I have to see if the boy was injured.”

Woodenly, Hal watched as the two men placed Lori on the stretcher. Countless times in his law enforcement career, he’d seen dead bodies removed from auto wrecks. He had felt outrage at those times for the loss of life and pity for the survivors. But this was different. This was his daughter.

The two attendants picked up the litter and headed for the ambulance.

Hal shoved his bulk to his feet and wove on unsteady legs. The sudden thrust upward had drained blood from his head. Darkness clouded his blue eyes and left his whole body weakened. He shook his head to clear it.

“Hal? Are you passing out?”

Hal waved away the hand that tried to help him. “I’m all right, George. I just want to be with her.” He fell into step behind the attendants.

George understood. He didn’t follow.

As Dr. Murphy bent over him, Rick Medina watched Sheriff Endicott stumble after the stretcher. The boy barely noticed the pain from a dozen places on his own body. “He’s taking it awfully hard, isn’t he, Doctor?”

“Yes, he is. You’ve got quite a scrape on your elbow. Does it hurt when I move your arm like this?”

“No. I fell on it when I flew out of the car.”

“Your right elbow? Shouldn’t that have happened to your left arm?”

Rick shrugged. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

“Nothing hurts? Your head? Legs? Back? You can move everything? Any numbness? Dizziness? Nausea?”

“No. Just my ankle. It feels sprained.” He flinched as Murphy touched his foot.

“You’re lucky, young man. Nothing seems to be broken. I’ll examine you better at the hospital.”

“The hospital?!”

“That’s right. Some of these cuts need to be cleansed and bandaged. Nothing to worry about, though.”

“Will the sheriff be all right?”

“I think so, in time. He’s tough.”

“What can I do? How can I tell him I’m sorry?”

“The man just lost his daughter, Rick! You can’t expect him to be thinking of you right now!” Murphy pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. “Look, I know you feel bad about Lori. We all do. And we’re all sympathetic for Hal’s grief. But don’t ask him to forgive you right now. It’ll be a long time before he can do that, if ever. He’s only a man, and a man grieves when his child dies.”

Rick flinched and drew his breath in sharply.

Murphy’s deep voice softened. Rick, after all, was a patient, too, and a victim of this tragedy. He must have had some feelings for Lori for them to be together. “Don’t upset yourself now. Hal’s a strong man. He’ll come out of this all right. And he’s fair. He knows, as well as every man here knows, that the wreck was an accident. He just needs time to accept it, though.” 

Murphy glanced at Rick’s demolished car. “You know, my Jeff could’ve been driving that car. He’s about your age. Then, too, Lori could’ve been my Melinda. She’s only a seventh grader, but soon I’ll have to start worrying about her riding in fast cars….” His voice trailed away. With difficulty, he pulled himself back into the present and stood. “Sit still. Ron and Sid will bring a stretcher for you.” He turned to watch Hal.

Hal had followed the attendants to the ambulance and watched as they loaded his daughter inside. Standing at the opened back doors, he stared at Lori’s body until it was covered with a sheet. Aimlessly, he wandered back to where Murphy stood.

Murphy’s big hand touched Hal’s chest. “Hal, I’m so, deeply sorry.”

“I know. How’s Medina?” The professional lawman was asking mechanical, but necessary, questions. The stunned father was lost somewhere in a fog of grief.

“He’s, ah….” Murphy turned around and saw that Rick had pulled himself to his feet. “I told you to lie still!” He grabbed Rick’s arm to steady him.

Rick was grateful for the support and straightened out of his crouching position. He should’ve listened to Murphy. His ankle was stinging terribly.

Hal was facing Rick now. Rick’s slenderness made him seem taller than his medium height. Hal was a good two inches taller, but looked shorter because he was overweight. 

“Well, Doc?” Hal repeated. “How is he?”

“Minor cuts and bruises. A skinned arm and a sprained ankle. Nothing serious.”

Hal looked startled. “That’s all?”

Murphy snapped his medical bag shut. “Yes.”

“But how can he walk away when Lori got killed?”

Murphy shook his head. “It happens, Hal. You know that. You’ve seen enough car wrecks.”

Hal stepped closer to Rick who tried to balance on his sprained ankle. “She’s dead. Did you know that?”

Rick nodded solemnly. He couldn’t look into Hal’s face.

“She broke her neck. She died before I got to her.”

Rick grimaced and tried to turn away, but Hal grabbed Rick’s shoulders and shook him.

“She’s dead! And you’re alive! Why aren’t you dead, too?!” He raised his hand and saw Rick cringe, but not back away. He wouldn’t fight Hal, either. Medina knew he deserved punishment from Lori’s father. He would probably even welcome it to ease his own guilt.

Hal’s hand trembled. It’d feel so good to strike out, but a superhuman willpower stopped him from slapping Rick across the face. Hal couldn’t. He didn’t hurt kids.

Then Hal did something more terrifying. With an anguished cry, he pulled Rick into a fierce bear hug and bellowed, “Damn you! Damn you! Die!” His muscular arms smothered Rick and tried to squeeze the life out of him. Clawed hands tore at Rick’s back.

Bewildered, Rick did nothing to defend himself. He was too numb to break the macabre embrace. Then he felt the shudder of emotion that rocked Hal’s body and knew that Hal was no longer attacking him. Hal was seeking comfort. Something primitive and basic in him knew that they shared a common grief.

Hal gagged on dry sobs. He rooted his face into the hollow of Rick’s neck and trembled against him. His arms were no longer punishing, but clutching. His heart sent out a plea for sanity.

And Rick understood. Hal Endicott needed help. Rick reached out to ease that grief, but couldn’t move against Hal’s strength. His hands fluttered on the back of Hal’s khaki shirt.

Dr. Murphy tried to push them apart. “Hal, Don’t! Leave the boy alone! You’ve both had a severe shock.”

“Hal! Listen to Doc Murphy! You’re hurting the boy!”

“I want to kill him, George!”

“No, you don’t! My God, Hal! Think! Don’t throw it all away. Lori’s gone. Isn’t that enough tragedy for one night? Do you want to lose anything more?”

Hal’s arms fell to his sides. “Get out of my sight!” he snarled as Rick gasped for air. “Put him back under his rock. Anywhere! Just so I don’t have to see him!”

George pulled Hal away. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Tears of anger replaced Hal’s grief as he pointed at Rick. “He’s going to jail!”

“He’s going to the hospital,” Murphy said sternly. “And if you don’t settle down, I’ll take you in and give you a sedative.”

Hal’s blue eyes snapped as he emphatically shook his head. “No sedative. Oh, no. No sedative for me. I want my mind clear.” He glared at Rick. “Because I’ll be thinking, Medina. I’ll be thinking of you!”

Murphy caught George’s arm. “Stay with him, George. Call if you need me.”

George nodded, then led Hal away and deposited him in the squad car.

“Come on, Rick,” Dr. Murphy said. “Let’s go.”

Shaken by Lori’s sudden death and by Hal’s strange behavior, Rick stumbled after Murphy. His arms and chest hurt from Hal’s crushing grasp, but not as much as from the guilt burning inside him. “He’s right, Doctor Murphy. I should’ve died, too.”

“What’s done is done, son. It can’t be changed now.” He took Rick’s arm and helped the limping youth to the ambulance. “Climb in. Watch your step now.”

The last thing Rick saw before the ambulance door closed was Hal Endicott staring stonily at him.

Rick and Murphy perched together on one of the slabs as the ambulance sped them back to Beardsley. Rick avoided looking at the draped figure on the other side of the aisle. That had been Lori, Lori. And now, she just wasn’t anything anymore.

Rick knew that the doctor was talking to him in a low, calm voice and that he should be grateful for the man’s kindness and concern. But all that Rick could think of were the tortured, pain filled eyes of Hal Endicott and of how the sheriff had clung to him so desperately as if Rick could change now what had happened.

Back at the wreck site, Maynard Lipps, a full-blooded Cherokee, pulled his six-feet-five frame out of his squad car and stared at the heap of twisted yellow metal that had been Honeysuckle Rose. From the rider’s side of the vehicle, Curly Boswell climbed out. Built like a bulldog and twice as scrappy, Curly was married to Maynard’s sister and made an odd-looking partner for Maynard. As red haired as his brother-in-law was dark, Curly barely measured to Maynard’s shoulder. But they were inseparable. Hometown folks called them Mutt and Jeff after the comic-strip characters.

“My God, George, what a mess! How is Lori?”

George shook his head gravely. “She didn’t make it, Maynard.”

Maynard couldn’t speak for a moment. “Dead?! Lori Endicott is dead?!”

Equal shock registered on Curly’s face. “My God!”

“Hal….”

George grabbed Maynard’s arm. “Not now.”

Maynard nodded. “Sure. Sure, George, sure.” He and Curly stared at Hal sitting in the squad car. Their hearts went out to their friend, but they were glad that George had prevented them from blindly stumbling to the car and offering disoriented sympathies. They would’ve only upset Hal further. And after time for considering their words, they didn’t really know what they could say to Hal to ease his grief. There was nothing. Not now. Maybe now. For now, they could just be a silent presence and support their grieving friend.

“I’m going to take Hal home and be with him tonight,” George said. “Why don’t you boys stay here and make sure this mess gets cleaned up. Have Jim take the car to the city garage. We’ll want to see it later.”

They thought Hal couldn’t hear, but he poked his head out of the prowl car’s window and glared at them. “Take that damned car to the dump! I don’t want to see it anymore.”

George’s eyes directed Maynard to do as he originally said. “Better make yourselves visible around town for awhile tonight until things settle down. If you need me for anything, I’ll be at Hal’s.”

“All right, George. Don’t worry about the town. Curly and I’ll watch it. You just take care of Hal.”

“Thanks, boys.”

The red and white wrecker with its hook and chain swaying pulled up, and a lean man in his mid-thirties swung down out of the cab.

George headed for the wrecker.

“Dad?” the wrecker driver said as George approached in the unreal world of glaring headlights surrounded by deep darkness. “Helen said Lori Endicott got hurt real bad.”

“Worse than that, Jim.”

Jim Adams stared down at his father. “Dead?!” The fact soaked slowly into his brain. “My God!” He shook his head. “I saw her just this afternoon. She was laughing and having fun with her friends.“ He stared at the twisted wreckage. “It’s hard to believe that she‘s gone, just like that.”

“I know. Afraid it’s true, though. She never knew what happened. If there’s a blessing in all of this mess, it’s that. The poor lamb didn’t suffer any. Hal is taking it pretty hard, of course.”

Concern and sympathy flashed into Jim’s eyes as he stared at Hal. George had to stop him, too, from going to his friend to offer sympathy and an offer to help.

“Not now, son. Hal knows how we all feel. Right now, he’s trying to get some of his own feeling back. Later, when the shock wears off, we can talk to him. Then, he’ll need us, all of us, bad. That’s when we can really help him.”

Jim nodded. “You’re right, Dad. Are you going home with him now?”

George breathed deeply. “Yes. I’m not looking forward to it, but nothing could keep me away, either.”

“I’ll have Helen call Mom so she’ll know where you are. Do you want any of us to come over and stay with you?”

George thought of what a comfort it’d be to have his Lucy with him during the upcoming vigil. He’d leaned on her through thirty-five years of marriage. But if he ever needed her reassuring strength, this was going to be the night.

“Ask your mother if she will.”

Jim smiled softly. “I’m sure she will, Dad. And remember, Helen and I are just a phone call away.”

“Thanks, son.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

George patted his son’s shoulder. “Just stay safe. And be careful.”

Jim felt tears pricking at his eyes. “You, too, Dad.”

George nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

 

The lights of Beardsley lay scattered on the far horizon as George topped a sharp hill. The county seat of a rural community in central, Oklahoma, Beardsley claimed its share of Cherokees and Mexicans. But mostly, descendants of Great Britain and northern Europe comprised its citizenry. It was a quiet town where generations of the same families had lived, intermarried, and died. 

Nothing much happened in Beardsley. The people liked it that way. They were conservative and law-abiding. Occasionally, their teenagers raced their hopped-up hotrods out on the highway in a celebration of youth. Youngsters watched in admiration, waiting for the day when they, too, could join such carefree fun. Oldsters looked on with nostalgic tolerance, remembering their own youths and friends long departed. The teens frolicked, but the police force kept them in line. That was, they did, until Rick Medina and his bright yellow car blew in from California.

George compressed his lips as he glanced at Hal staring out the window. Why’d this damn thing have to happen to his friend? Why did Lori have to die? Why couldn’t it have been that Medina hoodlum? He was only the son of a drunken father and a runaway mother. Didn’t Hal Endicott have enough heartache at home already? Did he have to lose a child, too?

 

Dr. Murphy straightened and smiled. “You’re in fine shape, Rick. Nothing’s wrong with you that a little more weight wouldn’t fix. You can get dressed now.”

Rick sat on the examining table in the emergency room of the Beardsley Hospital. He reached for his white dress shirt that’d been hopelessly tattered in the car wreck.

A loud commotion erupted in the hall. Someone out there was very angry and was headed toward them. Murphy and Rick stared at the door as it burst open.

The doorway framed a six-foot, rugged-looking man. Dark whiskers marred his handsome face, but anger turned it into scowling ugliness. “Where’s my kid?!” He spotted Rick on the table. “What in the hell happened to you?! Why’d you go and wreck that damned car for?!”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” the perplexed nurse said from the doorway. “I couldn’t stop him.”

Murphy knew that as tall and strong as he was, he would’ve had trouble with the burly man, so how could his nurse have stopped him? “That’s all right, Penny. This must be Rick’s father.”

“Damned right, it is, Doc.” Bert Medina stomped to the examining table. “Why’d you have to go and kill a girl for?! And the sheriff’s kid, at that. I don’t need any trouble from Bull Endicott.”

“Would you please quiet down, Mr. Medina? Your son’s been through a trying experience and….”

Bert’s bleary eyes flashed. “Give me room, Doc! I don’t have any business with you. This is between me and my boy.”

Rick trembled as he looked wide-eyed at his father.

But just as suddenly, Bert’s face cleared of anger, and his voice softened. “Are you all right, boy? Did they get you fixed up okay?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Bert raised his hand. Murphy thought he was going to strike Rick. Even Rick cringed. But Bert gently stroked the boy’s silken cheek with his thumb.

“Ready to come home with me, son?” His violent temper had cooled, and he was an entirely different man from the raving maniac who’d burst into the emergency room just a few minutes before.

“Y-yes, sir, but I don’t know if they’ll let me go.”

Bert turned. “Doc?”

“Penny, why don’t you get Curly Boswell.”

“I’m here, Doc,” Curly said as he sauntered into the emergency room. “Heard you were having a little ruckus down here. What’s the problem?” Curly sounded nonchalant, but his quick eyes were watching Bert Medina. He didn’t want to tangle with the big man who towered nearly a foot over him, but he would if compelled.

Murphy relaxed. “Mr. Medina wants to take his son home. Can he?”

“Aren’t you keeping him overnight, Doc, for observation?”

Murphy shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with him, Curly, that a little bed rest won’t cure. And he can get that at home.”

“I don’t rightly know what do with him then….”

“Either charge him or let him go, Bull!”

Bert Medina’s eyes flashed with anger, but he was right. Curly had to do one thing or the other.

“All right, Medina. I’ll turn him loose in your custody. But don’t let him leave town. He has to answer for what happened tonight.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him.” Bert yanked Rick down off the table. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Rick winced in pain as he gingerly stepped on his sore foot.

“What the hell’s wrong with you now?!” Bert demanded.

“I-I sprained my ankle.”

Bert grabbed Rick under the arms and partially lifted him off the floor. “Come on.”

“Dad, your leg. You’ll hurt it again.”

But Bert paid no attention as he dragged Rick out of the emergency room.

Dr. Murphy and Curly Boswell glanced with guilt at each other. They both felt a little sheepish for letting Bert Medina boss them around.

“Well, the kid’s better off at home, Doc. His old man can take better care of him there than we can down at the jail. We’re just not equipped to handle kids.”

The two men studied the floor. They felt uneasy about letting Rick go with his father when Bert was so obviously angry. He might even harm Rick. But like so many other people who don’t want to get involved, they tried to tell themselves that there was nothing more they could do for Rick.

 

Rick bounced hard when his father pushed him onto his bed. He grabbed the headboard to keep from rebounding onto the uncarpeted floor. His eyes widened in fear.

But Bert wasn’t angry. “What the hell’s going to happen to us, kid? Nothing’s working out right for us anymore.” He pushed his question aside. “Get ready for bed. You must be tired and sore.”

Rick hastened to obey. The slightest thing could throw Bert into a tangent. The scene at the hospital proved that. Bert could go from caring to hateful in a split second. Anything could set him off.

Perhaps Rick could escape Bert’s anger if he was very careful.

As his father watched, Rick removed his T-shirt and slacks, then reached under the pillow for his pajamas.

“Wearing your pajamas like your mama told you?”

“I, I do it out of habit, sir.”

“You do it to please her, don’t you?”

Rick shook his head. “No, sir, I….”

“You always liked her better than me, didn’t you?”

“No, no. I love you, Dad.”

Bert smirked. “She could always say that so easy, too. You’re just like her!”

“No, Dad. I love you both.”

Bert ripped the pajamas out of Rick’s hands and tossed them across the room. “Mama’s boy! Only sissies wear pajamas! I’ll make a man out of you yet.” He slapped Rick across the face, caught him, and slapped his bleeding mouth again.

Rick fell to the floor. Stunned, he raised himself on one elbow and shook his head to clear it.

His father towered over him. “I told Fred not to buy that damned car for you, but he always had to be getting something for his grandsons. Always trying to show me up because I couldn’t buy things for you. Well, it didn’t work out so good for you this time, did it? You had to go out and kill someone. Well, boy, you’re going to have to pay for that. Starting now.” 

Rick gave his father a beseeching look. “It wasn’t my fault. Please, Dad….” He heard a slapping sound and looked from Bert’s stony face to his hands. Bert had removed his heavy leather belt and was popping his opened palm with it. “No!” Rick yelled. He tried to pull himself away, but pain from his mouth and the sprained ankle slowed him.

“Don’t you try to get away from me, boy!” Bert’s left hand reached down and tore Rick’s shorts away with one swoop. Bert grabbed Rick’s upper arm and hauled the naked boy to his feet. Rick struggled, but Bert dragged him toward the bed and forced him across his knees.

Rick jerked. “Please, Dad, don’t! Don’t hurt me!”

The doubled belt cracked over Rick’s soft buttocks and produced a broad, red band on the tender flesh.

Rick screamed in pain.

“That’s for the girl.” Bert brought the belt down harder. Rick yelped and jumped. “That’s for the car.” The belt tore and bruised at Rick’s flesh again. Bert had to grab the dancing youth to hold him on his lap. “That’s for worrying the hell out of me.” He listened to Rick’s sobs and studied the reddened, trembling buttocks. Faint blisters were forming into angry puffs. Blood dappled the striped skin. But Bert felt no compassion for his son’s suffering, only an insatiable loathing. “And this, this is for loving that bitch of a mother.” He drew the belt over his head and swung it down as heavily as he could.

Rick stiffened. “A-ha-ha!” he cried. “A-ha-ha!”

Then Bert commenced just to beat without preamble. Again and again, Bert raised and lowered his arm. He struck Rick with long, measured blows that pulverized meat each time the thick strap landed. Rick twisted, trying to escape the inhuman chastisement. But Bert’s arm grasped him tightly across the small of his back, trapping him. Reverting to a savage instinct simply to survive, Rick howled in physical pain and screamed in terror as he struggled. His father meant to cripple him.

Tired at last, Bert stopped and mopped sweat off his face with the back of his hand.

Half conscious, Rick squirmed in sensuous, undulating motions across Bert’s lap. High-pitched whimpers passed through his opened lips. Saliva dripped from his lax mouth. His useless arms dangled to the floor.

The sight of Rick’s suffering disgusted Bert. “Sissy! Can’t take a little spanking, even when you deserve it.” With new energy, he tossed the belt aside and struck Rick’s hams with his bare hand. Blood flew every direction.

Rick was too weak to fight back.

Bert whipped him until his hand was slick with blood. Then, abruptly, he shoved Rick off his lap.

Rick landed in a quivering heap, buried his face in his arms, and bawled. He made no attempt to hide his intense suffering.

“Still a little baby, aren’t you? A sniveling, spoiled brat who’s not willing to accept his punishment. What’d you expect? Praise?! You killed someone! There ain‘t no glory in that!” Bert snorted with disdain. “Man child! Some man I’m raising!” He flicked off the light as he left the bedroom. “I’ll leave this on if you’re afraid of the dark, man child,” he sneered with disdain. 

Rick quivered as he lay weeping on the floor.

Bert watched for a moment, then snorted again and slammed the door shut on his shameful spawn.

Rick lay crying on the floor for a long time. His abused body shook with convulsions as wave after wave of raw pain washed over him. Fever burned his cheeks, but he trembled as cold sweat streamed out of his pores. Vomit threatened to erupt from his shocked stomach.

At last, he quieted. His body still shuddered uncontrollably, but he had mastered the pain as long as he didn’t move. It was like the pain belonged to someone else.

He opened his eyes. His father was wrong. The darkness didn’t frighten Rick. It was his friend. It didn’t hurt him.

Rick knew he couldn’t spend the night on the floor, but it’d hurt so much to move. If he didn’t, though, he might get sick. Pneumonia might even set in.

Painfully, Rick pulled himself onto his bed. Panting hard and sweating profusely, he nonetheless forced himself to wriggle under the protective covers. He shoved his face into the pillow to keep from yelling out in pain. The exertion of moving had tugged at the fresh scabs on his backside and had torn some of them open. A hundred bee stings nipped at Rick as he tried to put his mind above his physical discomfort.

Gradually, his torment subsided. His body shook with hot and cold. He felt like a feather on the wind. If Dr. Murphy saw him now, he’d say Rick was in shock.

How ironic, Rick thought. To be hurt worse by a parent than by a car wreck.

 

Lori’s face with its dark, teasing eyes swam through Rick’s disoriented dreams of rolling yellow cars and sailors with bullwhips. At last, his dreams cleared of violence and mayhem. Lori came to him as he always hoped she would. A haughty angel dressed in purest white, she floated gently above him while invisible voices sang. A promise for Rick lay in her lovely eyes.

“I’m here, Rick. I’m here.”

Rick was charmed by her beauty. He dared to touch all of that loveliness.

Instantly, her heavenly face cracked open, revealing her inner ugliness. All sort of slimy, putrefied creatures crawled out of her body and flew, screaming, at Rick. He ducked, but couldn’t avoid contact with most of the furry, scaly, or moist horde. They encircled him, and his thrashing arms couldn’t fight them away.

Then Rick found himself enchained by thick ropes of sticky spider webs. The hateful ogre that Lori had become thrashed him across the chest with a broom of iron nails. He wept as his blood began to drip. She meant to rip his heart out inch by slow inch from his exposed chest.

Rick heard someone sobbing in greater misery than his own. He turned and found Hal Endicott shackled beside him. The sheriff’s faintly beating heart had been torn from a gaping hole in his bleeding breast. Hal pleaded for mercy, but found none.

With a devilish cackle, Lori whipped her father with the heavy nails. The steel dug into his quivering heart.

Hal begged for protection. Rick jerked one arm free of the sticky spider webs and twisted to shield the sheriff from Lori’s attack. The father had loved the girl longer. He had to be hurting worse than Rick. Lori cursed as her blows landed on Rick’s buttocks instead of Hal’s heart.

Hal trembled against Rick, spreading his blood across Rick’s chest battered by Lori’s blows. Their blood flowed as one. Rick tingled from the intimate contact with the sheriff, and his own body didn’t hurt so much anymore. Wrestling his other arm free from the collapsing spider webs, he covered Hal’s ears with his hands so Hal couldn’t hear his daughter’s hateful tirade against him.

Rick never considered escaping or disarming Lori of the weapon that continued to batter him. All that mattered was to protect Hal from his daughter’s punishment.

Hal lifted his head off Rick’s shoulder, and his face had turned into Bert’s. Shaking his head in disbelief, Rick backed away from Bert and Lori who mocked and jeered him. He was denying them his love. He was hateful to do so.

Rick plunged into a jungle lush with dark green undergrowth and crowded with layers of gigantic leaves. At first, he ran heedless of direction, his only purpose being to escape Bert and Lori. And then he realized he was running TO somewhere. He was searching, searching, searching for something he couldn’t identify. But it was something he definitely wanted. Sweetness flowed into his heart, and he smiled. He felt contented and loved as he did when he was with his mother. Somehow, though, he realized his mother was lost to him forever. Disappointment stabbed him, but it didn’t last long with the promise of what lay ahead.

The path became steeper, but Rick struggled onward. Strange plants whipped his naked thighs and caught at his ankles. Looking down, he saw that the vines reaching out to trip him were actually hands, hands belonging to Bert and Lori. They cheered in triumph. They’d won.

Rick felt himself sliding and falling. He fought the vines that twined around his arms and legs. They clutched and clung to him with a bone-chilling stickiness. They were honeysuckle vines.

“Help me! Someone help me!”

The vegetation slowly parted revealing a man standing in a clearing. A huge tree framed the man, and a shimmer from above highlighted him against his dark background. With kindness shining in his blue eyes, he smiled at Rick. Then he raised his hand, and the clinging vines fell away from Rick’s body.

Rick stood, grateful for the stranger’s help.

The man smiled with affection and beckoned to Rick. “Come, son. Come to me. Don‘t be afraid. I won‘t let anything harm you anymore.”

Rick smiled, too. Nothing could please him more than to be with that man.

Rick hurried toward the smiling man, but a giant star materialized between them. Rick could see the stranger through the star’s transparency, but the man apparently could no longer see Rick because his smile faded and he began calling out to Rick.

“I’m here! I’m coming!” Rick tried to fight his way past the star and then through it, but it was too strong to penetrate. Instead, the star enlarged and engulfed Rick. It smothered him, choking him, cutting him off from the man.

Through the heart of the star, Rick saw the man still watching for him. Then the man shrugged, turned, and walked away in disappointment.

 

“No!”

Rick’s eyes flew open. He was sweating and discovered he’d had a wet dream. With heart beating wildly, he stared at the black place where the ceiling should be.

“Lori! Lori!” the small voice in his head screamed.

But Rick wouldn’t give into his grief. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears inside. Finally, he slipped into dreamless sleep.

 

When Rick awoke the next morning, he was on his stomach and couldn’t move. His backside had stiffened into a thick crust that he feared would crack open with the slightest motion. He felt like, a prisoner, but the pain had at least stopped.

His bedroom door opened slowly, and Bert cautiously poked his head inside. “You awake, son?” he whispered.

Rick turned his head and stared dully at Bert.

“I made you some oatmeal,” Bert said solicitously as he neared the bed. “I thought you might be hungry.” He placed the cereal dish on the lamp table and carefully sat on the bed. He saw Rick grimace with the movement. “Still hurts?” He gently touched Rick’s shoulder. Rick pulled away, and his rejection was like a blow to Bert. “I don’t blame you, Rick. I don’t like me very much this morning, either. Look, I know you’re hurting, but I can’t get the doctor for you, honey. If they find out what you made me do to you, they’d take you away from me. And I couldn’t stand losing you, too. You just have to do better, so nothing bad will happen to us.“

Rick squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging tears. Yes, he would have to do better so he could stay with his father. His father needed him so much.

“Now, let me see how badly you forced me to hurt you,,” Bert said. “Don’t pull away now. I’ll be real careful.”

The covers whispered as they were drawn down to Rick’s calves. Cool air swirled over Rick’s warm body, making him feel conspicuously naked. The room quieted, then Bert made a funny noise in his throat. Rick frowned and shoved his face into his pillow. The martyr was on display.

“My God! Did I do that?” Remorse shook Bert’s voice. “It’s all purple and cut. The blood! It’s crusted and oozing from sores. The sheet’s caked with your blood.” Bert put his hands over his eyes to hide the sight. “Oh, Rick, I’m sorry. Oh, baby….”

Self-righteous tears collected in Rick’s eyes. Rick bit his lip, stared at his pillow, and finally reached backwards to pat his father’s hand. “It’s all right, Dad. You were upset last night. I understand.”

Bert nuzzled his face into Rick’s back and kissed Rick’s shoulder. Rick screwed his face down into a self-pity that churned through his body with perverse pleasure. Let Bert suffer a little. Let him crawl back. It was almost worth all of last night’s pain to know that Bert was tortured now.

Bert’s splashing tears ran down Rick’s spine. “Oh, baby, I don’t want to hurt you anymore! I promise I won’t. I promise I’ll give up drinking. You’ll see. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be strong. Anything for you, honey. Anything. Just don’t leave me.”

Rick sighed. He’d heard it all before. The remorse. The promises. 

For awhile, Bert would keep his promise, too. And they would be happy together, just the two of them, not needing anyone else. And then Bert would start remembering, remembering the accident that had crippled him, remembering the wife who had deserted him. And then would come the drinking, and the ugliness, and the remorse, and the--

Rick was tired of it all.

The weeping man shuddered against Rick and humbly sought forgiveness for his weakness. Rick allowed him to continue his groveling, although he tried not to let Bert affect him too much. His backside hurt too intensely for quick forgiveness.

Rick ached in his heart for a steady, dependable father. Someone like the man in his dream.


	3. The Funeral and the Sentence

Lori’s funeral was held on Tuesday afternoon so that Hal Endicott’s brother, Leland, could fly in from Reno to attend it. Leland worked as a contractor for a heavy equipment company and was somewhere in the Nevada desert when Hal’s telegram arrived at the main office. After Leland was finally located, he grabbed a dark suit and the earliest jet to Oklahoma City where Maynard and Curley met his plane. Since Leland Endicott was between marriages, he had no wife to slow him down with her packing and traveling preparations. He never considered telling any of his children, both legitimate and otherwise, scattered over the Western states, about their cousin’s death. Most of them had never met their Oklahoma relatives, anyway.

 

Rick Medina was sweating as he hobbled toward the Methodist Church at one-forty-five that Tuesday. His camel corduroy sports coat seemed uncomfortably heavy for the hot summer afternoon in late August, but it was the only decent jacket he owned. Enviously, he glanced at the soft pastels and muted plaids worn by other teenage boys who were headed for the church. It would not have dawned on Bert Medina to buy appropriate clothing for his teenage son.

Rick didn’t try to get close to any of the boys. They stared at him with disgust and shunned his company. School had started only the week before, and Lori’s death had stunned the whole student body. A lot of time would have to pass before anyone felt comfortable around Rick again. Lori had been popular and would be sorely missed by the whole student body.

Rick had planned to arrive early enough to find a seat in the back of the church, but he couldn’t walk as fast as he thought he could with his sore foot and backside. He hoped he could still sneak in without being seen.

But as he rounded the corner of the church, he came face to face with Hal Endicott.

Only a moment passed as they stared at each other, but an eternity seemed to drag by for Rick. He watched breathlessly as the amazement in Hal’s eyes became a shocked recognition. And then the recognition turned into blatant hatred.

“What the hell are you doing here, Medina?!”

Rick stared with eyes that implored Hal’s understanding. Rick’s lips moved and tried to form words, but he found that he couldn’t speak.

Rick looked for support and found the eyes of a woman seated in the wheelchair that Hal was pushing. The blonde haired invalid gazed vacantly at Rick, and he realized that she probably didn’t even know who he was. Those were Lori’s dark brown eyes searching his so earnestly, and Rick felt a cold chill. He’d met Lori’s mother at last. The once beautiful face of Margo Endicott was twisted with bitterness and scorn. She was tormented, but all of her suffering came from within. She probably did not realize that she had lost a daughter because of the person standing in front of her.

Rick’s eyes swept up into the face of a frightened teenage girl who looked vaguely familiar. At her side stood a blonde girl about eight years old who stared openly at him. Behind them, a tall, hatchet-faced Indian woman held a toddler with an engaging grin. All of their eyes but the baby’s said they recognized Rick as their Lori’s killer.

Hal’s knuckles turned white as he grasped the wheelchair’s handles. “Get the hell out of my sight!”

“Please, I, I want to attend the funeral….”

Hal compressed his lips and spat bitter words through clenched teeth. “Haven’t you done enough to us already, boy?! We don’t want you to help us mourn our dead. Leave us alone!”

“I mourn for Lori, too. I loved her.”

Hal’s blue eyes flashed in anger. He stepped toward Rick. “Don’t you ever tell me a lie like that again! You didn’t love her. You couldn’t have! You killed her! And there’s a hell of a difference between the two. You don‘t kill what you love!”

A tall man wearing glasses hurried to Hal’s side and took his arm. “Having some trouble, Hal?” The strain of trying to sound calm echoed in his voice.

With a barely controlled sneer on his round face, Hal looked up at his brother. “This is the guy Lori was with Saturday night, Leland. This punk is responsible for the death of your niece.”

Leland Endicott considered Rick to be another species of vermin, and his glance showed it. “I think you better move on, boy. We don’t want you here. Just, leave. At least have that much respect for our sorrow.” He placed his big hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Come on, little brother. Let’s go inside now.”

Rick watched the small party enter the church. A hot wind gently ruffled his light brown hair. He was starting to sweat again under the corduroy jacket.

Rick sensed someone beside him and looked into the kind face of George Adams gently smiling at him.

“Guess you really can’t blame them for feeling the way they do, boy, especially Hal. Lori was like a princess to him. They have a right to their grief.”

Rick stared at the church. “I know.” He looked back at George. “But don’t I have a right to mine, too?”

George’s tolerant smile faded. “I wouldn’t push it, son. I don’t know how much Hal can take.” He squared his shoulders. “I expect I better be getting in there. Lucy will be wondering where I went to.” He eyed Rick sharply. “Take Leland’s advice. Move on. It’s best for everybody.”

Rick nodded and hobbled away. The music of the opening hymn flowed out of the open church windows and followed Rick down the cracked sidewalk. In the sweet by and by….

 

Forty minutes later, Rick stood on Cemetery Hill and watched the long funeral procession snake out of Beardsley. It’d taken him nearly the entire forty minutes to limp the half mile from town, and the distance was all uphill. He panted as he mopped sweat from his face and stood one-legged to take pressure off his aching right ankle. His discarded jacket was draped across a nearby tombstone.

The warm breeze quickly dried his sweat as tall pines sheltered him from the hot sun. Rick glanced at the marble markers scattered among the evergreens. It was a quiet, lovely place apparently tended by a considerate caretaker. Flowers and shrubs were allowed to flourish on graves, but not noxious weeds. The grass was trimmed high so as not to expose delicate roots to the boiling sun. That meant the caretaker had to mow twice as often, but the grass would survive the scorching summer sunshine.

A bright flash of color caught Rick’s eye, but he couldn’t locate the shy bird again in the tree branches.

Birds, flowers, green grass, Lori would be happy here. Despite her love of pretty clothes and wild adventure, she’d had a genuine appreciation for the out-of-doors.

Rick felt a pang in his heart for his lost love. If Lori had merely been a shallow, self-centered girl, he never would’ve been attracted to her. True, she had been those things. She was pretty, and she knew it and used it. But Rick had seen a side to her that he doubted anyone else had known. She had had a zest for life and yearned to travel the world beyond Beardsley. For her, the brotherhood of man held special meaning. She respected all mankind, even strangers and foreigners. That’s why she’d been kind to the new boy from California. She would’ve been friendly to Rick even if he hadn’t possessed a bright yellow car that plagued her father.

People in Beardsley didn’t know the real Lori. Only rarely did the person she’d be someday shine through the trivial actions of an adolescent. Someday, she’d be a caring teacher or a social worker with sharp insight into other people’s feelings. Someday, alas someday. Now, someday would never arrive for her.

As Rick gazed up at the sun through the tree branches and turned his head slowly, the sunlight flickered and flashed. He thought of Lori’s smile and heard again her silver laughter that was as quick and bright as these blinding sunbeams.

Lori’s face swam against the dark green tree branches. Her merry eyes mocked him. “Come on, Rick, let’s go fast! You’re no fun at all.”

Rick was fascinated. “Lori. You came back.”

“Came back? Came back to Earth when I have all this?” Her laughter bubbled in her throat, taunting him.

And then Rick realized her laughter was merely the rustling of pine needles in the warm breeze.

Movement distracted him away from his fantasy. The black hearse containing Lori’s body nosed through the cemetery gates, and the station wagon carrying the pallbearers followed. Leland Endicott drove the third car that was preparing to turn into the graveyard. Sheriff Endicott would be riding in that Chevy.

Rick grabbed his jacket and scurried to a far end of the cemetery. He hid behind an early pioneer’s ancient tombstone and watched six of Lori’s male classmates lug the rose-colored casket toward the canopied gravesite. Rick gawked for a brief glimpse of the casket. Then it and the Endicott family disappeared under the canopy.

Mourners, hot in their funeral finery, formed a loose, disorganized circle around the flapping canvas. Only the sounds of many feet swishing through grass indicated their movement as they glanced solemnly at each other or spoke in monosyllables. On the outer fringes of the crowd, some people stared at nearby tombstones or at the view back down the hill toward Beardsley.

But when the Reverend Mr. Josiah Blackwell began to speak, everyone’s attention was on him as they pressed closer to hear. The wind paused as if it, too, were listening to the graveside service. Rick couldn’t understand the words, but the minister’s sonorous voice floated across the cemetery to him. 

A woman’s scream rent the air, and Rick jumped. But all that followed were barely audible sobs. The other mourners, awakened by the mother’s cry, began to shift their weight from one foot to the other. They were anxious for the funeral to be over so they could get back to living their own lives. The minister finished speaking, and people milled around the canopy for several minutes.

Rick lurked behind his tombstone until he saw the Endicott party leaving the graveyard. Gradually, the crowd broke up and drifted toward their vehicles. When almost everyone was gone but the grave diggers, Rick slipped up to Lori’s grave to say goodbye.

A few of the mourners were still scattered about. Some glanced idly at tombstones and some quietly talked near their cars. Rick paid no attention to them, and he hoped they didn’t notice him.

He stared at the temporary metal marker that would eventually be replaced with stone. Lori’s name was printed in ink, followed by the dates of her birth and death. Her birthday had been in June. Just sixteen, he thought. Just old enough to drive a car, and she had to die by one.

“Are you goin’ ta be long, kid?”

“W-what?” Rick looked at the burly face punctuated with a cigar butt.

The man shifted the shovel perched over his muscular shoulder. “I ask if you was goin’ ta be long. Me and Butch wanna get on with da work. This wind’s gonna blow up a rain, if I’m any judge. And dose clouds look purty heavy, too.”

“S-sure. I’ll be just a minute longer.”

The grave digger grunted and lumbered away.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Rick looked down into the open grave. The rose-colored coffin and vault were lost in the redness of the Oklahoma soil. Rick was disappointed. Below him lay only a metal box, nothing more. Lori was gone from him already.

Rick kissed a handful of soil and tossed it inside the hole. The clink of the dirt against the vault sounded like a door closing forever.

“Goodbye, Lori,” he whispered. “Thank you for letting me love you. I‘ll see you someday on the Other Side.”

Someone touched his arm, and Rick expected to see the burly grave digger. Instead, it was George Adams, and he had a kind smile on his face again.

“Come on, Rick. It’s time to leave now.”

“Did she look pretty?”

George frowned at the wistful face. “Didn’t you get to see her at all?” 

Rick shook his head.

“She never looked more beautiful. Hal went over to Rock View by himself yesterday and got that new dress she wanted. Burgundy it was with white, lacy do-dads down the front. Set her dark hair off real good. Hal kept his promise.”

Rick winced and allowed George to lead him away. Behind them, the two grave diggers began pitching dirt into the pit. When the first clods hit the vault, Rick stopped and compressed his lips. He started to look back, but George took his arm and gently led him onward.

George watched Rick stumble on the uneven ground and trip over the road gravel. He saw Rick’s dusty shoes and the pain on his face.

“How’d you get up here, son?”

“I walked.”

“How are you getting back to town?”

“Walking.”

“With that sore ankle?”

Rick looked up with determination. “Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you ride back with me?”

“That’s kind of you to offer, sir, but I’ll manage.”

“You’ll be doing me a favor. Lucy rode with Jim and Helen, my son and his wife, so I’m by myself. I’d appreciate your company.”

“You don’t want my company, sir.”

“Don’t I? I didn’t really find you by accident just now. During the graveside service, I saw you hiding behind that tombstone and thought you might need a ride. I sent Lucy on home so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable around her. Although I don’t know how anyone could feel uneasy around my Lucy. She’d mother you to death if she had the chance.” He squinted at Rick in the bright sunshine. “You know a lot of people would be your friends if you’d just let them.”

Rick studied the skinny, elderly man who was offering him friendship. “I’d appreciate the ride, Mr. Adams.”

“That’s better.” George led Rick toward an old Ford. “Well, here it is. Now you can see how well a policeman gets paid. Climb in, Rick. The door’s unlocked.”

George settled behind the wheel. Rick sat down, immediately stiffened, and partially raised himself off the seat.

George grinned. “What’s the matter? Afternoon sun heat up that seat cushion a little?”

“Yeah,” Rick mumbled as he gingerly lowered himself onto the seat. He jerked again. His eyelids fluttered. He remained seated, but all of his muscles were tensed.

George frowned. The hot cushion shouldn’t be causing such intense pain.

George drove slowly out of the cemetery and headed for town. Rick was quiet as he glanced back at the tombstones.

“Sorry you couldn’t go to the funeral, Rick.”

“I wanted to see her once more, just to make sure she was really gone. She didn’t look dead at the wreck.”

“Why didn’t you go to the funeral home?”

“I didn’t feel like walking over.”

“You should’ve called. I could’ve driven you over. Then you could’ve saved wear and tear on your ankle.”

Rick looked down in shame. He’d barely been able to get out of bed after Bert’s severe beating, let alone go to a mortuary. Monday afternoon was the first time he’d sat up in a chair, and then not for very long. That’s why the car seat had hurt so badly now.

“I didn’t feel very good, otherwise,” he mumbled.

“That’s right. You were sick yesterday, weren’t you?”

Rick looked sharply at George. “How did you know that?”

“Your principal called the station. You were absent from school, and he thought maybe we were holding you.”

“Good old Bellows,” Rick mumbled. “All he was concerned about was losing state aid. Absenteeism means no money.”

“Don’t be so hard on Frank Bellows. Small towns have trouble supporting a school.”

“Ain’t my problem.”

“You don’t like our school or town very much, do you?”

“Maybe I have a reason.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

Rick studied the floor. “Nah, it wouldn’t do any good.”

“It might. Look, son, I was the only boy in a family with five older sisters. I know what it’s like to be picked on.”

Rick flashed a rare smile, and George grinned back.

“Thought you could do that. Now, what’s your problem?”

“The kids don’t like me because I’m different.”

“That’s only because they don’t know you. Give them a chance.”

“I think I’ve lost my chance with them now. They blame me for Lori’s death.”

“They’ve got a pretty good reason, don’t you think?”

Rick twisted his mouth and sighed. “What’ll happen to me? In court, I mean.”

“That’s up to the judge.”

“Do you know the judge?”

“Sure. It’ll be D.L. Farley.”

“What kind of guy is he?”

George turned downed Main Street. “He’s a good man, Rick. A very good man. And very fair.”

The bright sunshine struck Rick at a different angle, and a dark discoloration around his mouth was highlighted in the glare. As George drove past the small shops, he tried to remember if Rick had received any head injuries in the wreck. He couldn’t.

“This isn’t my street!”

“I know. I’m taking you over to Doc Murphy’s office.”

“Doc Murphy’s?! Why?!”

“To find out why that ankle isn’t any better.”

“It’ll be all right, Mr. Adams. I’ll stay off it and….”

“Now, I’m taking you over there, and no arguing. You might’ve hurt it some more this afternoon, walking clear out to the cemetery like you did.” George stopped in front of Murphy’s office. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

In the waiting room, George settled Rick in a plastic chair. “I’m going back to the bathroom. You know how an old man’s kidneys are. Don‘t go anywhere.”

Once inside the examining room area, George stopped the nurse. “I want to see Doc. On police business.”

“He’s in his office, George. Go right in.”

“Thanks, Donna. Don’t let the Medina kid get away. Give him a balloon or something to play with!” He ducked into the doctor’s private office.

Murphy was amused by George’s conspiratorial manner. “What’s wrong, George? Playing cops and robbers?”

George pointed back over his shoulder. “I’ve got Rick Medina with me, Doc. I don’t want him to know I was seeing you first.”

Tiredness replaced the humor in Murphy’s eyes. “What’s wrong with that boy now? Don‘t tell me Hal got to him?”

“Someone sure has. I think he’s been abused.”

“That’s a pretty strong charge, George. Do you have any proof?”

“His mouth is bruised. He tried to hide it with makeup or something, but he’s sweat some of it off. Tell me, did Rick get a facial bruise at the wreck?”

Murphy knitted his brow in interest. “No, he didn’t. Did you notice anything else?”

George frowned. “Yes. He has trouble sitting down.”

Murphy slapped his desk. “Damn it! I knew it!”

“Knew what, Doc?”

“I knew we shouldn’t have let Rick go with his father that night. Bert Medina was too mad at him.”

“You mean the night of the wreck?”

“Yes. Medina barged into the hospital and virtually dragged Rick away. I couldn’t hold Rick and neither could Curly, so we let him go.” Murphy raised an eyebrow as he stared into nothing. “Apparently, we turned him loose so his father could beat him.”

“Rick’s going to get suspicious. I told him I was going to the john, and now I really have to! Why don’t you get him in an examining room and look at his sprained ankle. Then, we’ll try to worm the truth out of him.”

“Sounds like you better let me check you over sometime for that bladder problem.”

“I’ll be fine! Just check the kid!”

When George entered the examining room later, Rick was sitting stiffly on the table and Murphy was leaning over him.

“Well, Doc, how does his foot look?”

“He’s re-injured it, all right. I’ll tape it for him.”

Rick grimaced as Murphy wound an elastic bandage around the sore ankle.

“How does it feel now?” Murphy asked as he straightened.

“Better,” Rick answered, and it did.

“Good. Wear that bandage as long as you need, but don’t get dependent on it.” He examined Rick’s face as though he’d just seen the discoloration. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Rick replied.

Murphy turned Rick’s head back and forth. “This bruise.”

“I got it at the wreck.”

Murphy gave him a stern look. “No, you didn’t. I treated you, remember? What happened? Did someone hit you?”

“No….”

“Hal Endicott?”

“No!”

“That’s what people will think.”

“It wasn’t him! I mean, nobody hit me.”

“Who are you protecting?”

“Nobody!”

“Your father?”

“No!”

“Tell me the truth. I saw him that night at the hosptal, Rick. I know how angry he was, so don’t lie to me. Did your father strike you, Rick? Did he?”

“Yes,” Rick mumbled. “Well, just a little bit. Hearing about the wreck scared him, and he slapped me.”

“Did he hit you anywhere else?”

“I, I don’t know what you mean!”

“You had trouble sitting down on this examining table. Did your father spank you? And didn‘t know when to quit?”

Rick looked from one to the other. “I’ve got to leave.”

“Hold it! You have to tell us the truth, Rick.”

“So he spanked me! So what?!”

“So, there’s a difference between a spanking and a beating. Did he intend to correct you, or to hurt you?”

“He meant me no harm,” Rick mumbled.

George stepped forward. “You have to prove that.”

“What do you mean?!”

“You have to show us your backside.”

Rick stared at the solemn men. “No!”

“Listen, Rick, you remember I said Judge Farley was a good man,” George Adams told him. “Well, he doesn’t like people who hurt kids. Just on my say-so and Doc’s, the judge will take you away from your father and make you a ward of the court.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Oh, yes, we can.”

“But it’d kill my father!”

“We want to make sure he doesn’t kill you.”

“I won’t leave him!”

“We don’t want to break up your home, Rick. We just want to know if a problem exists, so we’ll be aware of it.”

“George is right. We could have a long, drawn-out court investigation to see if your father is a fit parent. But during that time, you’d be separated and would lose precious days of being together. We understand that you don’t want a separation. But let us know how serious the problem is. We‘d be negligent if we didn‘t follow through with our suspicions.”

“You’ll turn Dad in if I don’t?”

The two men nodded.

“And you’ll leave him alone if I show you?”

They reluctantly agreed.

“All right. I have your word.”

“You have our word,” George affirmed.

They helped Rick off the table. He loosened his belt and slacks, glanced at the men, turned his back, and dropped his pants.

“My God!” George gasped. “What a mess!”

“Lean over.” Murphy’s fingers lightly touched the skin spotted with deep blue bruises and crossed with healing wounds. “It looks well cared for.”

“Dad put stuff on it. Cold cloths took out the heat. Iodine fixed the cuts.”

“Anything else you can do for him, Doc?”

Murphy shook his head. “Just let it finish healing. You can button up now, Rick.”

“Well, what do you think, Doc?”

“It’s child abuse, all right. We’ve got a case, George.”

Rick spun. His face reddened with anger. “You promised!”

“We did promise, Doc. Rick, are you sure you don’t want us to do anything for you?”

“Yes! Look, Dad was upset Saturday night. Generally, he goes his way and I go mine. We don’t bother each other.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a home life.”

“It might not be, Mr. Adams, but it’s what I’m used to. Please don’t take me away from my dad. Someday, my mother will come home and my brother will get out of the Navy. We can all help each other, and we’ll be a family again.”

George sighed. Rick’s earnest face was hard to argue with. “Well, Doc, what do you say?”

“I say we’ll try it Rick’s way for awhile, if he promises to contact us or someone else if he needs help.”

“I promise!” Rick almost yelled.

“Finish dressing, Rick. George, come with me, please.”

Out in the hallway, George asked, “Do you think we did the right thing, Doc, or should we turn Bert Medina in?”

Murphy sadly shook his head. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t do much good. Rick would probably tell any lie to cover up his father’s guilt. The only thing we’d succeed in doing would be to alienate Rick. He wouldn’t trust us anymore. And he needs to trust someone.”

“But if it’s for his own good! Why should he want to protect his father?”

“For the simple reason that he loves him. And, I believe that Bert Medina loves his son.”

“He sure has a strange way of showing it!”

“I know. But that’s the problem in most abuse cases. There’s no lack of love in the home, only a lack of control. Rick’s right when he said his father would die without him. If Bert Medina didn’t drink himself to death, he’d eventually kill himself from neglect. He abuses himself as much as he does Rick. The only straw Medina has left is Rick, and that boy has to keep proving his love over and over by staying with him. I expect Medina’s jealous, too, and doesn’t want to share his son’s affections with anyone. Lori Endicott’s no longer a threat, but Bert Medina would be jealous of anyone that Rick liked.”

“Then there’s nothing we could do?”

“Oh, there’s plenty we could do, if Rick would only let us. If he were younger, there would be less of a problem. But the way things stand now, with him protecting his father and all….” He held up his hand as if to say that all was lost. “All we can do is to be aware of the situation and be ready to help him, if needed. Otherwise….” He held up his hand again. “All I know is to tell Hal.”

“I wouldn’t exactly advise that right now, Doc. Rick isn’t one of Hal’s favorite people. Then, too, there’s our promise to Rick.” He shook his head. “Imagine living in constant fear just to take care of his old man. He sure is a gutsy kid, you know? Last week, I wouldn’t have given a plugged nickel for him, but now. Well, he’s all right.”

“I only hope we can keep him all right, George.”

“So do I. Oh, here he is now.”

“Sorry I took so long. I had trouble with my shoe.”

“That’s all right.” George took Rick’s arm. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I can walk, Mr. Adams.”

“Now, Doc here said you were supposed to stay off that foot as much as possible. Isn’t that right, Doc?”

Murphy gave them a tight-lipped smile. “That’s right.”

George parked in front of Rick’s home and helped him to the front door.

“If you need anything, you call me or Doc, hear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

George pointed his index finger at Rick. “Not sir. Not Mr. Adams.” He held out his hand and winked. “My friends call me George.”

Rick’s shy grin answered George’s warm smile as they shook hands.

Rick felt good inside from Doc Murphy’s concern and George Adams’s friendship. The good feeling lasted until Rick walked into his house and saw his father sprawled over the battered living room sofa. Beer cans lay scattered everywhere. Bert had fallen off the wagon again.

 

Brilliant summer sunshine caused Rick Medina to squint as he climbed the wide steps in front of the Carroll County Courthouse. He paused to look up at the tall doorway and to read the inscription over it: Justice Before The Law. How he hoped those words were true.

Rick stepped inside the cool courthouse and was momentarily blinded in the darkness.

“Rick! How are you, boy? Everything okay?”

Rick turned to George Adams’s friendly greeting, prepared to return it. He appreciated George’s interest, but saw Hal Endicott approaching them. Quickly, Rick nodded his head to George and scurried up a stairway.

Hal was fuming when he joined George. “Why in the hell are you so interested in him?!” he roared.

“I only spoke to him, Hal.” George glanced at his watch. “Come on, I think it’s time for the hearing to begin.”

 

Judge D.L. Farley studied the group on the other side of his large desk. Two middle-aged men in business suits separated Hal and George from Rick.

Farley adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I asked that this hearing be held in chambers because of the age of the defendant. Are you ready, Mr. Scott?”

The prosecuting attorney stood. “The people are ready, your honor.”

The judge raised his hand. “Nobody needs to rise, Stanley. Stay seated. We’re a small group. I believe we can be informal and still serve Justice. Is the defendant represented by legal counsel?”

The public defender leaned forward. “Yes, your honor.”

Judge Farley turned to the court stenographer. “Let the record show that Mr. Ernest Foster is the defense attorney. Also note that Sheriff Endicott and Deputy George Adams are also present.” 

The judge looked at the defense attorney. “Mr. Foster, your client is a minor. Where are his parents?”

“Mrs. Medina no longer resides in this town, and her whereabouts are unknown, your honor. Mr. Medina was, ah, ill and couldn’t be in court this morning.”

“I see.” The judge stacked some papers that needed no straightening. “This is a most unusual case. The chasing of a speeding car by the sheriff is routine until the car crashes and the sheriff’s daughter is killed. That fact and the fuzzy details surrounding the wreck take this case out of the ordinary. We’ve discovered that a front tire blew out, and the driver couldn’t keep control of the car at its high rate of speed. Of course, the car wouldn’t have been going so fast if Sheriff Endicott hadn’t been chasing it.” He seriously studied a single sheet of paper. “Mr. Scott, what is the charge against the defendant?”

Scott stopped himself from rising. “Motor vehicle homicide, your honor. Involuntary manslaughter.”

Judge Farley looked at Rick. “Richard Douglas Medina, you have heard the charge against you. How do you plead?”

Rick glanced at his lawyer, then back at the judge. “Not guilty, your honor.”

Hal shifted in his chair and glared at Rick.

“Rick, why do you think you’re not guilty?”

“Because I didn’t want Lori to die, your honor. It was an accident. My car had taken Dead Man’s Curve lots of times. Just ask the sheriff. It would’ve made it the other night if the tire hadn’t blown.”

“Why did you run when the sheriff tried to stop you? Were you merely racing with him?”

“Sheriff Endicott didn’t know Lori was dating me, and he’d found out if we’d stopped. I didn’t want her to get in trouble with her father.”

“I see. And how old are you, Rick?”

“Seventeen. My birthday was five months ago, your honor.”

“Seventeen.” Farley looked at the other men in the room. “Seventeen, gentlemen. Try to remember when you were seventeen.” He saw reflective looks on their faces and a few sad smiles. “It means a lot of years ago for most of us. Time has obliged us by dimming our memories of being seventeen, but I think one thing stands clear: none of us were angels. Those were halcyon days in a golden world. We made our mistakes and we remember them fondly now. Seventeen. Wouldn‘t you gentlemen agree that’s a mighty tender age to go to prison?”

This time Stanley Scott made it completely to his feet. “Medina was old enough to have a driver’s license, your honor! And Lori Endicott is still as dead as if she’d been riding with a thirty-year-old. There should be no leniency.”

The judge signaled for Scott to be seated. “But it was an accident, Stanley. Just a pure and simple accident.” His face darkened. “I don’t believe in punishing anyone when there’s a chance he could be rehabilitated. Two wrongs don’t make a right. We could send Rick to a house of corrections for a few years, but that would only harden him. A jail’s environment is part of an unreal world, and the defendant would return to society embittered. And we, gentlemen, would have failed at our jobs.”

Judge Farley frowned at his listeners. “I’ve studied this case in some detail, and I’ve done some hard thinking about it. Our sheriff shouldn’t have to be out playing tag with our teenagers because they think it’s fun to harass him. And, on the other hand, we can’t forget boys like Rick here whose parents apparently have. He’s not a bad boy. He just needs proper guidance. And I’m getting tired of all these cases of juvenile speeding being brought before me. I think part of the trouble is a failure to communicate between youth and authority. Incarceration is not the answer because it would solve nothing. Neither Rick nor the law would profit. I think rehabilitation might turn the defendant into a worthwhile and viable citizen.”

Farley paused to make certain that he had the attention of everyone in the room. He did.

“Therefore, I’m setting aside the state’s charges,” he continued and saw puzzled looks all around. “Because of questionable parental supervision, Rick Medina will become a ward of the court. And because it would give him some valuable knowledge and insight into today’s youth, I’m appointing Sheriff Endicott to be Rick’s guardian.”

A stunned silence permeated the judge’s quarters. Rick looked startled, and Hal jumped out of his chair.

“You can’t do that!”

“Now, Hal, you know I can, too, do that. Take your chair. Hal, I know you lost your daughter and have understandably bad feelings against the defendant. But you’re also the sheriff and are sworn to enforce the laws. You’re one of the few people I know who’s principled and dedicated enough to do what’s right. And don’t get the idea that the court has gone soft on crime. I’m not releasing Rick unpunished. There are some other provisions to his sentence. First of all, he keeps his driver’s license.”

“That’s a punishment?!”

“Let me finish, Hal. He can’t drive any vehicle without your permission. If he fails to comply with that or with any part of the following verdict, he will be sent to prison with the stiffest possible sentence I can muster and with no recommendation for parole. Make no mistake. I will carry this out, if need be.”

Farley looked at his stunned and even belligerent audience. “But I don’t want to punish, gentlemen, I want to educate. What I’m about to propose should help teenagers and the sheriff’s department understand each other better. Then, we could stop these senseless races and pileups. And I know our lawmen would appreciate not having to investigate any more fatal wrecks. What I’ll propose probably won’t stop people from killing themselves overnight, but maybe we can make a start saving lives.”

Farley turned to the defendant. “Rick, the sentence I’m giving you might seem like a strange one. And I’m afraid you’ll have many unpleasant experiences that will sicken and disgust you. But maybe you’ll find out for yourself why we don’t want you to speed. Rick Medina, every Saturday night from seven p.m. until ten-thirty p.m. for the next twelve weeks, you will ride patrol in the squad car with Sheriff Endicott so you can experience what the Law has to deal with.”

Everyone in the room sat stunned. Then Hal and Rick jumped to their feet, both talking at once.

Judge Farley pounded bare-knuckled on his desk for attention. Finally, he got everyone seated and quieted again.

“Sheriff Endicott?”

“D.L., I can’t understand what you want from me. We’ve been friends a long time. How could you force me to take care of my daughter’s killer?”

“Hal, we don’t know if he is a killer. And it’s because I do know you so well that I want you to do this. You’re the one person I know who could rise above personal feeling and sacrifice it in the cause of duty. This boy needs guidance and a firm hand. This court will not concede one young person to a life of crime if we can help it. I’m not punishing you, Hal. I simply think you’re the best person qualified for this job. And what better way for a teenager to learn that the police are his friends and not his enemies than by riding patrol?”

Rick glared at the public defender. “Get me out of this!” he hissed.

Foster leaned forward. “Your honor, on behalf of my client, I wish to object.”

“It’s like I said before, Ernie. Either Rick Medina goes along with this verdict, or he’ll face the longest prison term I can hand out.”

Foster leaned back and mumbled to Rick, “Grab it quick, kid. Prison is pure hell.”

Rick blanched. “But he’ll kill me if he gets me alone!”

“No, he won’t son,” the judge said in soft tones. “Hal Endicott is not a vengeful person.” He frowned at the satisfied gleam in Hal’s eyes. I know I can count on the sheriff to perform his sworn duty in a professional manner, especially since he’s responsible for your welfare.”

Hal’s eyes cleared into a businesslike stare.

The judge brought the hearing quickly to a close, and everyone got up to leave.

“Hey, Medina,” Hal said at Rick’s elbow. “Be at my house by seven on Saturday night. That’s when I go on patrol. And I don’t want either one of us being late for that appointment.”

Rick looked at Hal’s face. The satisfied gleam was back.

 

Softly, Rick closed his bedroom door. Silence rang in his ears. He stared at the room he’d once shared with his older brother. But Casey was gone now, and so was their mother. All Rick had left was a shoddy house and a drunken father. And a sheriff that hated his guts.

A long, shuddering sob escaped him. Here in the privacy of his lonely room, he could admit the crushing terror that griped his whole body. Tears ran down his cheeks. He clamped his hand over his mouth to silence his fear from himself.

“Oh, Mama, where are you? I need you, Mama. I’m so s-scared!”

Giving in to his raw fear and the loneliness of his cold house, Rick squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging tears of self-pity. He wrapped his arms around himself because there were no other arms to comfort him. Lori was beyond the clutches of terror and anxiety, but Rick wasn’t. Maybe Death wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Nothing could hurt or worry him anymore. And when he was dead, then they’d be sorry for what they’d done to him. His father. The sheriff. The judge. The kids at school. They’d be so sorry, but it’d be too late. Because Rick Medina would be dead, perhaps by his own hand….

“What are you sniveling about now?” Bert demanded.

Rick’s head shot around. Rick hadn’t even heard the bedroom door open. Quickly, he wiped tears away with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, Dad.”

Bert stumbled into the bedroom. “That still didn’t answer my question. What are you bawling about?”

“I went to court today.”

“Court? Oh, yeah, the wreck. I meant to go with you, but I got tied up. They must’ve not been too hard on you, or you wouldn’t be here now. What happened? Get off because you’re so young?”

“Not exactly.” Rick’s voice revealed his inner misery. “I have to ride patrol for three months.”

“That’s all?”

“With Sheriff Endicott.”

“Endicott?! What kind of court system do we have, anyway?! I’m going down there and straighten that judge out!”

For a moment, Rick’s heart leaped up with the childish thought that his father really could help. But Rick had been disillusioned about his father’s abilities long ago. Bert could no long slay dragons, not even for himself. Hope quickly burned out of Rick. His father could only make his problem worse.

“Please, Dad, don’t”

“Why not?! The sheriff will kill you if he gets the chance, boy. And that judge just handed him the chance.”

“That’s what I said, too. But it’s either ride with the sheriff or go to prison for manslaughter. Dad, I don’t want to do that.” He looked frightened. “I hear that things happen to young guys in prison. Bad things.”

Bert was sober enough to know what Rick meant. With the eyes of men Rick would encounter behind bars, he studied his son’s delicate face and slender body and realized what a temptation Rick would be to those sexually deprived men. “You’d be in demand, that’s for sure. They wouldn’t leave a good-looking boy like you alone. You’d go for premium stock and cause a war among those cons. Then some brute of a sadist would probably kill you to satisfy his own lusts. I didn’t raise my boy to end up like a prize rump roast on the open market.”

“Then you see why I have to ride with the sheriff, don’t you? I’m scared of him, but prison would be worse. And there’s something else. The court made Sheriff Endicott my guardian.”

“Then he won’t dare hurt you.”

“But what if nothing else is more important to him than getting even with me?”

“Then he’d have to pay for it.”

“But I’d be dead!”

Bert nodded, then sighed deeply. “Boy, my advice to you is to ride with him and do your best not to rile him up. I don’t think he’d risk hurting you. Too many people know he’d be the one who did it.”

“But….”

Bert rubbed his creased face. “I’m tired now, boy. I have to get my rest.” He stumbled out of the room.

Rick stared at the empty doorway until he heard Bert collapse on the living room sofa and sigh. Then the house quieted.

With the face of a frightened child, Rick glanced at the ceiling. “Mama, help me.“ He received no answer. “Mama….”


	4. The First Patrol

At five till seven on Saturday evening, Hal Endicott left his white, two-story, square, frame house and headed for his patrol car parked in the driveway. Rick Medina, clad in blue jeans and a short-sleeved sweatshirt, pushed away from the trunk of the oak tree in Hal’s front yard and shuffled toward the car, too. Without a word, they slid into the cruiser and shut the doors. There they sat in silence.

Neither moved. Both stared at the dash. The strain and tension completely filled the prowl car. 

Hal spoke at last, and his voice was low with suppressed anger. “I’ll tell you front: Stay out of my way. As far as I’m concerned, I’m riding by myself. I’d rather see you in Hell than in this car. As sheriff, I have to carry out Judge Farley’s decision. But as Lori’s father, I’d like to squash you like the insect you are. Watch your step around me, boy. You’re just so much scum to me.” He glared at Rick.

Rick stared back at Hal levelly, then turned away without saying anything.

Hal reached for the mike of his two-way radio. “Mobile One to Mobile Two. Come in. Mobile One to Mobile Two. Come in, George.”

George’s voice crackled back: “Mobile One here. Go ahead.”

“How does it look out there tonight?”

“Quiet so far. Have you picked up the Medina kid yet?”

Hal glanced at Rick. “Yeah. He’s tucked safe and sound under my wing.”

“I’ll take him with me, Hal.”

“Negatory. D.L. gave me this little chore to do, and I’ll handle it, one way or the other. I’m starting patrol now. Mobile One clear.”

Hal backed out of his driveway and drove slowly along quiet residential streets. Dusk was slowly falling after the furnace heat of the second Saturday in September. Lori had been gone nearly a month, and still the summer heat persisted. Die-hard old-timers, though, predicted an early frost.

In the gathering stillness of evening, children played on the sidewalks and yelled to each other. It was an older neighborhood with no house younger than fifty years. Like Hal’s abode, most were big, solid, square homes with big, square rooms. Large windows let in drafts and lots of sunshine. The ranch styles and split-levels were clustered on the edge of town where the richer people lived.

The squad car swung onto Main Street, and Hal proceeded carefully down the single thoroughfare. People hurried across the street to get to the show house before the main feature started. Others standing in line to pay admission stared at the squad car. They’d heard about Rick’s strange sentence, and now they knew the rumors were true. The proof was riding with their sheriff. People leaned toward each other to gossip and forgot their concern for movie tickets.

Rick stared, unseeing, out the window. People strolled the sidewalks, enjoying the evening coolness and taking advantage of the late closing hour of most of the stores. Rick knew few of the townspeople and none of the farmers and ranchers, but he dropped his eyes from their curious gazes.

When Hal passed the corner drugstore, Rick turned from the window and stared at his hands. The drugstore with its soda fountain and magazine rack was a favorite hangout for the teenagers. Rick did know them, and he was ashamed to look into their faces. A crowd of boys lounged in front of the drugstore, and Rick didn’t want to see their amazed stares when they saw him with Bull Endicott. Rick knew he’d have to face a lot of razing from his schoolmates on Monday.

At a corner, Hal signaled for a left hand turn and looked to see if anyone was coming from the right. He saw Rick’s profile sharply etched against the car window. Rick was a good-looking kid with almost girlish features and pale, clear skin. Most teenagers had faces boiling with pimples, but Rick’s was smooth. The only thing that marred him was his sullenness. But all that Hal saw in his glance was a bowed head reddened in shame. Hal felt no compassion for Rick’s embarrassment, only contempt for his presence.

Back they drove through another quiet residential neighborhood. Streetlights were burning now, each with its covey of circling insects. Several people trod the sidewalks, and a few children still lingered at their games. Men and women sat on their front porches and watched the foot and car traffic. Some waved to Hal who solemnly acknowledged the greetings with a slight nod of the head or a raised hand.

At the edge of Beardsley, Hal decided to drive past the new homes. He cruised along the curving street that angled among the houses standing in what had been old man Morrison’s cow pasture ten years before. The homes were expensive, draft free, and easy to keep clean. But they lacked character with their machine-shed exteriors, hominess with their standard uniformity, and windows except for the required picture window in the living room.

Behind one of the houses, people huddled around an outdoor barbeque. Sounds of laughter floated through the open window of the squad car along with smells of roasting meat. The tantalizing aromas sharply reminded Rick of his own uneaten supper. He’d left his cheese sandwich and tomato soup untouched because of his fear and nervousness of riding with Hal that evening.

Hal glanced at the expensive houses. He’d never be able to afford one of them on a sheriff’s salary. The house he lived in had been his father’s, and he was satisfied with it. He wished he could build something nicer for Margo, though. Margo, beautiful Margo! She’d married Hal for love and had paid for her mistake many times. Born and raised in Los Angeles, she’d become bored and felt strangled by the quiet life in Beardsley until she’d retreated into her own world. And the double tragedy of her crippling disease and Lori’s death were greater to her than the sustaining love of Hal and their remaining children. Hal feared she’d never come back to him, that the aimless wanderings of her mind would never lead her back home again.

Hal pulled onto the highway and headed west. Although it was a little early in the evening for the action to start, Rick knew Hal was driving out to see if any teenagers were drag racing. A month ago, Rick would’ve been racing with them.

Rick felt a blow to his chest that was almost physical. A month ago, Lori had been safe and alive in her father’s house. Now, there were no more Honeysuckle Rose and no more Lori.

“Mobile Two to Mobile One.”

“Go, Mobile Two.”

“I’m stopping out by the water tower. Couple of the kids are having car trouble.”

“So that’s where they are. Nobody’s out on the quarter yet. Do you need any help?”

“No, I think it’s just a simple engine adjustment.”

“Then you sure wouldn’t get much help from me. I’ll take a turn through Main Street and let the citizens look me over. Mobile One out.” He hung up the mike.

“I could’ve….”

“What?!” He’d forgotten Rick was in the car with him. 

Hal’s loudness frightened Rick. “I, I could fix the car. Maybe.”

Hal’s surprise changed into irritation. “Who asked you?!” he whipped the squad sharply around a corner and headed for Main Street.

Rick’s body trembled with fear as he stared at the floor mat. His heart beat wildly with dread of what Hal might do. Hal was a big, powerful man who could easily kill Rick with his hands. And there was no one to help him: neither the judge who prized principle over people, nor Rick’s father whose only concern was for his next drink.

Rick had only one protection, and that lay in his ability to keep a low profile. He used the same technique to keep out of the way of his drunken father’s fists. But Rick had jeopardized his one defense by offering his help and had thereby called Hal’s attention to his presence. Hal had sounded angry. Rick feared that anger might make Hal forget his sworn duty to protect all people and become just a grieving father bent on revenge.

On the other side of the seat, Hal had already forgotten the incident. His eyes swept Main Street while he thought of the fishing trip he was taking the next day. Fishing was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself, and he intended to treat himself royally.

“Mobile Two to Mobile One.”

“Go ahead, George.”

“I’ve got a problem here, Hal. Can you come over?”

“I’m about two blocks away. Be right there.”

The squad car climbed the small knoll where the water tower marked the highest point in town. Hal stopped by a green sports car where George and a teenage boy stood.

“What’s wrong with the car, George?”

George leaned against Hal’s squad. “I don’t know. Looks like it needs a mechanic.”

“Call one.”

“Can’t. Joe Pallack’s got his dad’s new car out, and Lloyd doesn’t know it. If we call for Jim and the wrecker, Lloyd will find out for sure.”

“Maybe we can call Ferguson’s Garage and get Bill Davis out here.”

“I thought about that. Ferguson’s is open, but I think Bill went to see some tootsie over in Victorsville. By the sounds of her, she must really be something.”

“Damn it! Why doesn’t Bill romance some local gal? Doesn’t he know that home cooking is the best?”

A worried teenager in expensive polo shirt and slacks walked up to the squad. “Evening, Sheriff.” Misery echoed in his voice.

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself some trouble, Joe.”

“Know of a way out for me?”

“Afraid not. You’ll just have to take your medicine.”

“Guess so.” Joe sighed. Then his face brightened. “Rick? Rick Medina? Is that you in there?”

Rick looked up, startled. “Huh?” When he saw Hal and George staring at him and Joe grinning at him, he turned away, hoping they’d all forget about him.

But Joe wouldn’t forget. “We don’t have to send for a mechanic!” he shouted as he ran around the squad. “We’ve got one right here!” He tore Rick’s door open. “Boy, am I lucky you’re here, Medina!” But Rick refused to move, and Joe’s face fell. “Won’t you help me, Rick? Please? My old man will can my butt and sell it for dog food if he ever finds out I messed up his new car.” Joe nodded wisely. “Guess I was pretty dumb asking for your help, wasn’t I? Now’s your chance to get back, and I don’t blame you for taking it. Guess I’d feel the same way if people treated me like they do you at school. But it’s just because you’re so DIFFERENT. California. That bright yellow car. Guess we were all a little jealous of you. But you don’t help matters any by going around with a chip on your shoulder.” He scowled. “So enjoy your revenge. I hope you choke on it! Mr. Adams, you might as well call Jim to bring the wrecker out for the car. And call an ambulance for me while you’re at it. When my old man gets through with me, there won’t be enough to bury.”

Rick’s face whitened with terror. “He wouldn’t actually hurt you, would he?”

“Hurt me? He’ll total me! He’ll kill me right on the spot. I don’t have a prayer.”

“But that, that’d be murder!”

“I know. Look, Rick, I’ve seen you working in shop class. You’re good with engines. You might not be able to help, but I’d appreciate it if you took a look.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to….” His eyes slid toward Hal.

“Look, kid, if you think you can help Joe, haul your butt over there and get busy.”

“I’ll be your assistant,” George offered as he and Rick walked toward the green sports car.

Joe strolled around the squad to where Hal was sitting. The worried look had left Joe’s face and he was almost smiling. “I’m sure glad you brought Medina along, Sheriff.”

“Is he really any good?”

“You bet! He’s the one who kept that yellow car of his tuned up. He does great work!”

“Well, don’t let him modify your dad’s car. The first time I see that green Pinto trying the quarter, you and I’ll have a little talk with your folks.”

Joe grinned. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. You won’t see me.”

“And don’t go racing out on the flats, either. I don’t want to have to pick you up in a plastic sack. I like you and your family too much to have to do that.”

Joe kicked at the ground, and his face sobered. “We sure were sorry about Lori, Sheriff. We all liked her.”

“Thanks, Joe. It helps to know you feel that way. I know that Lori was well liked. I’m glad she had friends like you.” His mouth hardened into a grim line. “What I can’t understand is why such a popular girl would have anything to do with Medina. She had the pick of the whole school. Why him?”

“Maybe it’s what I said before. He’s different. And moody. Mysterious. Some girls like that in a guy. Look how crazy they were over James Dean and Elvis.” He watched Rick work under the hood of his dad’s car while George sat behind the wheel. “Boy, I sure hope he can find the trouble.”

“Me, too.” Humor shone in Hal’s eyes. “I’d sure hate to arrest Lloyd for canning your butt and selling it for dog food. Lloyd’s too nice to go to prison.”

Joe grinned. “Guess I laid it on a little thick for Medina’s benefit, but I was desperate. Only one thing bothers me….”

“What’s that?”

“I think he believes me. Medina actually thinks my father would hurt me! Why, all he’d do is ground me. Nothing else.”

“Some fathers do hurt their children, Joe. It’s no joking matter.”

Joe stared at Rick hovered over his car. “You mean, his old man would….”

“I don’t know. He’s capable of it. Most people are. Even your father. But I’d say Bert Medina would do it quicker than Lloyd. A lot quicker.”

“Gosh! That would be awful! Not knowing when your father, your own father, might not beat you up! I never heard of anything like that happening in Beardsley before.”

“They brought it with them, that‘s for sure. It’s city ways. That’s why I didn’t want Lori messing around with him. I thought she should date a hometown boy. What was wrong with you guys, anyway? Why did you let him beat your time?”

“We tried, Sheriff, but we didn’t have a chance after Medina came to town with that bright yellow car.”

“Well, he doesn’t have it anymore. And if I have anything to do with things, he won’t be driving for a long time.”

Just then, the green sports car roared to life. Joe hooted with joy and ran forward to pound Rick on the back. George jumped out of the car. He was grinning, too.

Rick looked from one to the other, amazed at their happiness. He wiped grease on the rag Joe pressed into his hands. Rick was reluctant to use the rag because the tattered shirt was made of better material than any of his own clothes.

George Adams slipped an arm around Rick’s shoulders. “That was good work, son. You can work on my car any time.”

Rick’s amazement melted with the warm praise. He allowed himself a timid smile.

Five minutes later, Rick watched out the window as the patrol car cruised down more residential streets. But this time, he was feeling good. He even enjoyed the passing scenery. His pale cheeks were flushed with Joe’s friendliness and George’s good will.

“I suppose you’re feeling pretty proud of yourself about now.”

Rick looked around quickly. “Huh?”

“Feeling pretty smug, right?”

“I just wanted to help….”

“So you helped! Big deal! Don’t think that will get you off the hook with me. I’M the one you have to deal with, boy, not them. You can charm the whole damn world, including my daughter, but it won’t work on me. Don’t try to fool me, kid. I know what you are. And I’m the one you’re stuck with.”

Rick stared out the window. Gone was all the good feeling he’d gotten from Joe and George. All that remained was the bitter hatred of a man who detested his every breath.

Hal pulled onto the highway again. Cars traveling the quarter mile between the city limits and the Simpson Brothers’ grain bins suddenly slowed when their drivers recognized Hal Endicott’s patrol car.

A mile beyond the quarter, a single headlight approached the squad car, met it, and drove on.

“That was no motorcycle,” Hal muttered. “That was a car with only one headlight and on the driver’s side.” He backed sharply, cut the wheels to the left, and squalled tires as he raced after the one-eyed vehicle.

Hal turned on his rotating red lights, and almost immediately the vehicle ahead of him pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. Hal got out of the squad, ambled over to the old pickup, and leaned down so he could talk in the window to the unknown driver.

Rick watched the display of flashing red lights and dark shadows on the back of the old pickup. He could see Hal’s right shoulder and the light orange color that Hal’s khaki shirt had taken in the flashes of the red lamps.

In less than five minutes, Hal crawled back into the squad. “Leonard Martin. He knew the headlight was out and was on his way into town to get it fixed. I told him he might as well go on home and wait until Monday since Bill Davis is gone tonight. We’ll follow Leonard a ways and make sure he doesn’t have any trouble. He might confuse someone with just the one light.”

They shadowed the pickup over several miles of back roads until it lumbered into a farmyard. Hal continued on for a half mile, then turned south.

“This road comes out above the flats. We’ll see if anyone’s trying out their luck.”

The ‘flats’ was a mile stretch of straight road linking two rows of north-south river bluffs. It was a natural racetrack where teenagers could test themselves and their jalopies. The only impediment was the bridge over the Nations River that flowed through the valley. Over the years, many cars racing on the course had become literally airborne when they hit the bridge’s splintery planking. But, miraculously, no serious accident had ever occurred there.

Except for the patrol car, the intersecting side road above the valley was lonely. No one lived along the three-mile stretch of rocky bluff. Several deserted farmsteads loomed darkly against the moonlit sky. Their barns and sheds and houses lay in shambles. Gaunt trees thrust naked, dead limbs outward in a menacing fashion. Live trees formed whole thickets of dense shrubbery.

Rick shivered. He wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but this road was certainly spooky. As much as he dreaded being in Hal Endicott’s company, he was glad he wasn’t alone on this desolate road.

The track plunged into a grove of trees in full leaf, then cleared suddenly, providing a panoramic view of the river flats below. The road curved along the eastern river bluff before it met the main highway half a mile beyond the end of the trees.

Hal slowed the squad. “Looks quiet down on the flats. Nobody’s up here, either. I’m surprised at you kids. Our generation used this road to neck with our girlfriends.” He looked at Rick. “Did you ever bring Lori up here?”

Rick heard the bitter spite in Hal’s voice. He looked around wildly. The car was barely moving. The last of the tall, leafy trees thinned into scrub brush with nothing beyond them but rolling prairie. High lonesome. What a perfect place for a murder!

“N-no,” Rick stammered. “We never came up here.”

“What did you two do then?” Hal demanded in a low voice.

“We, we just rode around. And talked. That’s all.”

“Did you ever take advantage of her? Hmm? Did you ever violate my little girl?”

Rick backed against the door. “N-no, sir. I respected her too much to try anything like that.”

Hal stopped the car and put it in park. He stared at Rick’s shadowy form. “You better be telling me the truth, boy.”

“I, I am, sir.”

Hal leaned over and began rummaging for something under the seat. “Damn it!” he muttered. “Now, where in the hell did that go to? Can’t find anything when I want it.” His hand raked through objects that sounded like chains, heavy chains. A glass bottle and something metal crashed together under the seat.

Rick drew his breath in and crushed himself against the door. He reached behind him for the handle and was prepared to jump from the car if Hal’s searching produced a weapon.

“Where in the hell….” Hal muttered. He twisted the dome light switch, and pale light flooded the patrol car. “Oh, here it is. It must’ve rolled.” He grabbed something and began to straighten up. That’s when he saw the wild-eyed, frightened boy pressed against the car door. “What in the hell’s wrong with you?”

The white-faced boy was too terror stricken to answer. He sucked air through his opened mouth and stared wildly at Hal as his body began to shake. Raw fear reflected in his face while he cowered like a trapped animal.

Then Hal understood. The recent questions about Lori, the deserted country road, the search for something under the seat quickly added together in Hal’s mind. His eyes narrowed as he realized how suspicious his actions might seem. Medina thought Hal meant to harm him.

Rick’s fear was like a slap in the face. Hal could’ve coped with brash insolence or physical violence, but not with this lack of confidence in his professionalism. After twenty years in law enforcement, he was accustomed to people at least trusting him.

Not only did Medina not trust him, the kid also feared for his life. Never had Hal seen such animal fear in a human being. How frightened the boy must’ve been all evening! Medina must’ve thought that since Hal was a lawman, Hal could murder him legally. Who would question Hal if a prisoner ‘accidentally’ died while in his custody? The townsmen would protect Hal, the grieving father, and a hometown man whom they’d known for years. Who would pay any attention to the objections of Medina’s drunken father? All traces of the outsider could quickly be obliterated in the silence of an impersonal grave. It would be so easy! And Hal could have his well deserved revenge.

The only problem lay with Hal’s ingrained respect for the law. He couldn’t deny that he despised Medina for killing Lori. He couldn’t deny that the idea of avenging her death had been lurking in a dark corner of his mind. But after coming face to face with the opportunity, Hal knew he couldn’t break the law, not even for personal satisfaction.

“Move away from that door.”

Rick only pushed harder.

“If you don’t stop leaning on the door,” Hal said quietly, “you’re going to fall out.” He moved toward Rick, but stopped when Rick grabbed the door handle. Hal backed off. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. I’m the sheriff of Carroll County, Oklahoma. And that means something to me. My job is to uphold the law, not to break it. I’ve never killed anyone, not even in Korea during the war. Getting even with you just isn’t worth giving up the rest of my life. I’ve got a family I have to take care of. I’m not going to let you rob me of them, too.” He held up his hand. “Thermos bottle. I was looking for my coffee, that’s all, not a murder weapon. Now, get off that door handle before you hurt yourself.”

Rick straightened up as Hal poured himself some steaming coffee and tried to drink the scalding brew.

Hal studied the boy staring at the floor. “What’d you think I was going to do? Bring you out here and kill you?”

“I, I didn’t know,” Rick mumbled. “I thought maybe you’d slap me around a little.” He shrugged. “You know, just to show me who’s boss, like my father would….” He bit his lips shut. He realized he’d said too much.

Anger flashed through Hal. Rick was comparing him with Bert Medina!

“I don’t go around beating up on people!”

Startled, Rick jumped against the car door. It popped open, and he started to fall backwards. Hal grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside.

“Damn it! I told you to stay off that door. Now, look what you’ve made me.” He grimaced in pain and wrung his right hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Coffee burned me.” He pulled a clean hankie out of his pocket and tried to wrap it around his reddened hand, but couldn’t manage it.

“Here. Let me do that.” Rick grabbed the ends of the cloth and quickly wound it around the burn.

Hal’s face eased. Most of the pain in his hand left when the cloth cut off the air. “That feels better.” He began swatting at spilled coffee on the plastic seat covers. “There’s Kleenex in the glove compartment. Get them out and help clean up this mess.”

Rick obeyed, and for the next few minutes they mopped up coffee.

Hal struggled with the thermos. “Damn!”

“Do you want more coffee? I’ll pour it for you.”

Rick tried to take the thermos from Hal. They grappled with it, and then looked at each other.

“Okay, kid. You do it. I can’t seem to handle it on my own.”

The patrol car fell into silence as Hal slowly sipped the hot coffee. For the first time that evening, Rick relaxed. Hal wasn’t going to hurt him. Rick might be in line for a lot of verbal abuse during the twelve weeks of his sentence, but he was pretty certain now that he didn’t have to fear for his life. After all, hadn’t Hal grabbed him and prevented him from falling out of the squad? Hal’s sense of duty would protect Rick in the weeks ahead.

Hal screwed the top back onto the thermos. “Guess we’d better be getting back to Beardsley.” He guided the patrol car down the gravel road to the highway and turned east toward town.

Several cars were on the macadam, but none of them offered to speed. The early-rising farmers and ranchers were slowly threading their ways home in ancient pickup trucks and second-handed cars. Nine o’clock was their bedtime, and already they were yawning.

The town of Beardsley appeared as quiet as the roads because the movie wasn’t over at the show house yet. At ten o’clock, the feature ended and the theatre emptied. Within five minutes, the streets deserted by the farmers and ranchers were refilled with townspeople. A ghost town had returned to life.

People rushed to their cars and began to drive up and down the streets. At each end of Main, cars waited to turn a wide U and repeat the ritual riding that was so much a part of Saturday night in a small town. Hal’s car joined the procession, and the circling vehicles became a stately, orderly parade.

Gradually, the crowd scattered to the diner out on the highway north of town, the corner drugstore, the Cozy Corner Café, or home. Those that continued to drive around did so cautiously because Hal stayed right with them.

At ten twenty-five, Hal turned onto the street that led to Rick’s house.

“I can walk from here,” Rick offered quickly.

“I’m supposed to deliver you to your place at ten-thirty. That’s what I intend to do. Besides, your father wouldn’t like it if I turned you loose just anywhere.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to him,” Rick muttered. 

“What?!”

“N-nothing,” Rick stammered. “He doesn’t worry about anything happening to me in this small town.” He hoped he could cover the first statement that was nonetheless true.

But Hal wasn’t fooled. “Kids! You’ll never know how much your parents are concerned for your safety until you have children of your own.” His face relaxed with the hint of a grin. “Guess I have no room to talk, though. I never understood my father’s apprehension until Lori was born.” At the mention of Lori’s name, Hal sobered.

The squad car fell into silence. Rick was acutely aware of Hal’s fresh grief. Just being around Rick kept the wound open and raw for Hal.

“Do, do your fingers still hurt?”

“Fingers?” Hal echoed.

“From where the coffee burned them.”

Hal pulled himself back into the present. “No. No, they’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“About the fingers? I told you not to lean on the door.”

“Yes, and, ah, the other, too.”

“I’m just doing my duty by hauling you around.”

“No, I, ah, mean about Lori.”

Hal shifted his weight. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“I don’t, either, but we have to. I can’t live with all this guilt….”

Hal’s eyes snapped at Rick. “That’s your punishment, boy. I’ll never forgive you. And I hope you can never forgive yourself, either. I hope her death haunts you and puts you in the ground.”

Rick winced. “Lori was the only friend I had. I didn’t want her to die.”

“Some friend you turned out to be,” Hal muttered. “I didn’t know she was that desperate for friendship. Didn’t do her much good, did it?”

“I wish it’d been me who had died instead of her. Then everybody would be happy.”

Hal Endicott had a great respect for life. Anger roared through him as he heard Rick’s death wish. “You can’t play God!” he bellowed. “You can’t say who’s going to live, and who’s going to die!” His anger cooled as quickly as it had flared. “And neither can I. That’s why you’re safe in this car. You don’t ever have to be scared of climbing in here. I’m the law; and the law protects you, same as anyone else. I might not like what you did, but my personal feelings don’t seem to count.” He pulled over to the curb. “This is where you live now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. We wanted something smaller. Grandpa’s house was too big for the two of us.”

They both remembered that Hal had delivered the eviction notice to Bert six weeks before. That was the real reason the Medinas had moved.

But Hal said nothing. Even a murderer like Rick Medina and a drunken bum like Bert Medina had the right to save their pride.

Hal scrunched down to see the gloomy, weather-beaten, single-story house huddled in the shadows of a big, mournful pine. An unexpected shiver skipped along his neck. The Medinas lived in an ugly, impersonal house that lacked character and warmth. He was glad he didn’t have to live there.

The house looked dark and deserted. Surely the kid didn’t have to stay there alone!

“Where’s your father?”

Rick released the door handle. “What?”

“Your father. Is he home?”

“He was when I left.”

“Maybe he went out.”

“He probably fell asleep watching TV.”

“It looks dark in there.”

“He just didn’t turn on the lights, that’s all.”

“All right, then.” Hal wanted to be on his way. “Don’t forget: next Saturday night, seven o’clock, my place.”

“How could I?” Rick mumbled as he opened the door.

“And leave your smart lip at home.”

Rick hadn’t intended for his remark to sound like sassing. Apparently, Hal was hearing what he wanted to hear.

“Yes, sir,” Rick mumbled and got out.

Hal drove away.

Rick walked to his front door before he looked back at the departing patrol car. He watched until its red taillights disappeared around the corner a block away.

Rick sighed as he stepped inside the darkened house. Sure, his father was home. Bert Medina lay where Rick had left him, sprawled out on the battered living room sofa. Bert couldn’t have gone out that evening, not after all the alcohol he’d consumed that afternoon. He’d sleep for hours. Probably, he hadn’t even missed Rick that evening.

And that was for the best, too. After Bert’s tirade against the law system in general and Judge Farley and Sheriff Endicott in particular, Rick feared that Bert would cause a scene and get in trouble with the authorities himself.

Out in the squad car, Rick had become quite hungry and had planned to warm up the tomato soup when he got home. But now, in the harsh glare of the bare bulb in the cheerless kitchen, he lost his appetite. The cheese sandwich was dry and tasteless. After choking down two small bites, Rick threw the rest of it into the wastebasket.

Rick glanced at the discolored walls and limp curtains. Fresh paint and crisp tiers would work wonders. Hand-crocheted potholders hanging on the wall and a pair of bright salt-and-pepper-shakers would add gay touches to the room. How his mother could’ve fixed up this drab place!

The last thing Rick did before leaving the kitchen was to tear up the note he’d left for his father. Bert had never seen it.

 

Between classes on Monday morning, Rick dug through his locker for his American history book. Other students surged unnoticed around him, or so he thought.

“Hey, Medina! How was your date Saturday night?”

“Yeah, Medina! Which Endicott was the best kisser?”

Rick whirled and glared into the jeering faces. Too many for him to fight returned his look, and there wasn’t a teacher in sight. Not that teachers ranked among his favorite people, but one would certainly be helpful at the moment. Rick turned his back on his tormentors, and a burst of laughter exploded behind him.

“Watch out there! Let me through! What’s going on, Rick? Need some help?”

Rick stared at Pallock. No student had ever backed him up before. Silent thanks shone in Rick’s eyes.

“Why don’t you guys break it up and leave Rick alone now. Riding with the sheriff must be tough enough for him without you guys bothering him, too.”

“You sticking up for Medina now, Joe?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Want to be classed with him, Joe? What would your folks think of that?”

“Lori was your friend, too, Joe. Or have you forgotten?”

Rick knew Joe was torn between two loyalties. But befriending Rick would cost Joe the companionship and respect of people he’d known all his life. What could Rick possibly offer Joe that would ever come close to equaling that loss?

“Bug off, Pallock. I don’t need your help.”

“But….”

“Go on. Leave me alone. All of you.”

The combustible situation entered a stalemate as Rick glared defiantly at his tormentors.

Finally, one boy shrugged his shoulders. “Aw, let’s get out of here. He’s not worth being late to class.”

The crowd of boys broke up and shuffled away.

Rick caught Joe’s eye. They stared at each other. Joe gave Rick a sheepish look, dropped his humiliated face from Rick’s glare, and turned away.

Rick stared at his locker door. The tardy bell rang, but Rick didn’t care. He felt lonelier than ever.


	5. The Second Patrol

The second Saturday night patrol progressed quietly in the squad car until Helen, the night dispatcher, broke radio silence.

“Base to Mobile One.”

“Go ahead, Helen,” Hal answered.

“Prowlers spotted at the high school, Hal. North side of the gym.”

“10-4, Base. I’m a block away.”

Hal partially circled the school building, and then he saw several boys standing in the semidarkness. “Mobile One to Base. I’ve got them spotted, Helen. I can take care of this myself. Mobile One out.”

Hal walked toward the three boys as they stood near a lighted side door of the gymnasium. The teenagers shifted uneasily.

“You boys taking night classes now?”

One boy in a leather jacket sneered. “Yeah, Sheriff. We think the joint looks a whole lot better in this light.”

His two buddies snickered.

“You boys better run on home now and wait until Monday to continue your education.”

“Maybe we don’t want to.”

“Ease up now, Jesse. I don’t want to run you boys in, but I will if I have to.”

“You and what posse?” Jesse Harris asked, and the other boys backed him up. “Don’t look now, Sheriff, but you’re kinda outnumbered. Not unless you’re counting on that new deputy of yours helping.”

They all turned to Rick who’d gotten out of the squad car and was leaning against it.

“It’s none of his concern,” Hal answered.

“Really? Why don’t we ask him about that. Hey, Medina, we’re fixing to kick the hell out of the sheriff here. You want to get in the first licks? We’ll even hold him for you.”

Rick stared at them for a moment, then shoved his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans and walked toward them.

Jesse Harris grinned. “Hey, you picked out the spot yet, Ricky, boy? How about the big, fat gut of the law? Why not try splitting a lip and scattering some teeth? We’ll make sure he doesn’t move.”

Rick stopped. “If I ever decide to punch him out, I won’t need your help, Harris.”

Jesse shrugged. “Okay. Okay. Don’t say you weren’t invited, though. Don’t go bellyaching after all the fun’s over. Well, Sheriff, where do you want to get hit first?”

Rick glanced at Hal who looked noncommittal, then at Jesse. “Better not.”

“Why not? Are you standing up for the sheriff?”

“Nope. But you guys could wind up riding patrol like me.”

“What do you mean? The courts are scared to punish anyone. All we’d get is suspended sentences or a little crummy community service. Nobody’s going to do anything to us. Our fathers would just have a fine to pay, that’s all, if the courts could get any money out of the old sots, that is.”

The three boys snickered.

“Not from Judge Farley,” Rick argued. “Who else put me in the mess I’m in? He believes in rehabilitating people and that includes riding patrol with the sheriff. Would you want to risk riding with a guy you’d beaten up? How would you know when he’d pay you back the same way?”

Jess and his friends looked at each other, then at the sheriff who held onto his belt with both hands and eyed them calmly. Hal was a bull of a man and could easily thrash any of the teens singly.

The boys started to edge off.

“No offense, Sheriff,” Jesse mumbled. “We were just kidding around, weren’t we, guys? We’ll, ah, see you around.”

The boys scattered into the darkness.

Hal and Rick stood in the lights of the patrol car and listened to the fading sound of running feet.

“That was quick thinking, kid. I wasn’t relishing the thought of fighting all three of them.”

“I did it for them,” Rick answered sullenly. “I was telling them the truth. I didn’t want them to get stuck in the same car with you like I did.”

Hal toughened. “That’s right. You are stuck! Now, get in. The night isn’t over yet.”

In silence, they rode through Beardsley. Hal’s anger slowly cooled. After all, Rick had saved his hide, whatever the reason. By the time Hal pulled onto the highway, he’d forgotten the sulky boy who slouched on the other side of the seat from him. His mind was on his patrol.

Hal drove north out of town. A desolate part of the country with scattered farms and ranches lay ahead. Hal had received a complaint about Tom Johnson’s Black Angus cattle being on the highway at night. Black on black doesn’t work out very well. Hal had called Tom, but decided to check the situation out personally.

Rick stared moodily out of the window. Passing trees and signs were illuminated for a moment only to be swallowed again by the night. That was startlingly in a person wasn’t expecting it. Last week, Rick had been frightened to ride into the country with Hal. Now he realized that Hal wasn’t going to kill him when he got him alone. But Hal’s belligerence would be difficult to live with.

They were about nine miles out of town and lulled by the peaceful drive through the quiet countryside when the figure of a woman suddenly flashed in the headlights.

“What the….!” Hal slammed on his brakes and swerved to miss the apparition.

Rick braced his hand against the dash so he wouldn’t fly toward the windshield, despite his seat belt.

Hal jerked the gearshift into park and jumped out of the car.

A hysterical woman grabbed his arm. “Sheriff! Thank God! It’s Roy!”

“Calm down, Betty. What’s wrong with Roy?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! It’s awful!”

Hal gently shook her arm. “Betty, calm down now. You’ve got help. Tell me where Roy is.”

Hal’s low, steady voice did calm Betty. “Down, down the road.” She pointed. “Back down the road. I ran. I, I don’t know how far.”

“In your condition? With your baby almost due? You better sit down.” He opened the back door for her. “Get in. You can show me where Roy is.”

Hal started driving. “What happened?”

Betty Doran huddled close to Hal’s ear. “Roy felt bad when he came in from milking so he decided to have Doc Murphy check him over. He wouldn’t let me drive because it’s so close to my delivery date. We were heading toward town when Roy just gasped and slumped over the wheel. The car went off the road and a fence stopped us. Thank God, we weren’t going very fast. Oh, Hal, I’m so worried! Roy wouldn’t wake up.”

Rick saw Endicott bite his lips together in worry.

Hal glanced in the mirror. “You just calm down now, Betty,” he said in a low voice. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“There! There’s the car!”

Hall saw the Chevy sedan off the road and reached for the radio mike. “Base, this is Mobile One.”

“Go ahead, Mobile One.”

“Helen, I have a medical emergency out here. Send an ambulance toward the old Doyle place. They’ll see our lights when they get close. We’re right on Highway Ten. Send Jim and the wrecker, too. We have a car in the ditch.”

“10-4, Mobile One.”

Rick felt Betty Doran’s fear and understood the tension of the life-and-death emergency. Roy Doran might already be dead. Every moment counted.

As he watched Hal talking on the radio, Rick marveled at the lawman’s calm voice and confident manner. Years of dealing with stressful situations had probably hardened Hal’s nerves and emotions. This crisis would affect him very little.

Then, as Hal hung up the mike, he glanced sharply at Rick. In the glow of the dash lights, Rick saw Hal’s grim face. Tight little lines were drawn around his eyes and mouth. Hal was worried, and Rick was shocked to see it. He thought no situation could ruffle Hal. Rick began to feel uneasy for the sick man in the Chevy.

Hal parked his squad and ran for the ditched car.

Betty Doran started to follow.

“Stay in here, ma’am.”

Betty hadn’t realized someone else was in the car. “What?! Who are you?!”

“Rick, ma’m. You’ll just be in the way out there.”

“Roy’s a big man, Rick. Help the sheriff. Please! I guess I better not try.”

Rick sped to the Chevy where Hal struggled to remove the large man from behind the steering wheel.

“Medina! Grab his feet. Watch your back! He must weigh three hundred pounds.” Hal grunted with his struggles. “He’s going to be something to move.”

Rick finally extracted the tightly wedged feet and helped Hal lay the corpulent man dressed in blue overalls beside the Chevy. Doran was too heavy to be carried further.

Gasping for breath, Hal leaned against the Chevy. He’d lost his hat somewhere, and wisps of blonde hair littered his furrowed forehead. He wiped sweat off his face with his forearm and tried again to catch his breath. The strain of moving Doran twisted Hal’s face with physical agony.

Rick was alarmed. He knew he could do nothing to help the gray-faced Doran on the ground. And what if Hal had some sort of attack himself? “Are you going to be okay, Sheriff?”

Hal grabbed a deep breath. “I have to be.” He dropped to his knees and tore open Roy’s denim shirt. Quickly, his square hands went over Roy. Then he bent to listen to Roy’s chest. “Christ!” he muttered. “Heart attack. He’s not breathing and his heart’s stopped.” He drew back his fist and hit Doran solidly in the chest.

Rick blinked as though he’d been struck.

Hal began CPR treatment. “Get down here and feel for his pulse,” he told a wide-eyed Rick. He was pushing Roy’s chest with a steady rhythm. “Can you do mouth-to-mouth?”

Rick numbly shook his head.

Frenzy strained Hal’s face. “Get down here, boy!”

Rick quickly knelt.

“Feel for his pulse, there in his neck. Not with your thumb! You’ll be taking your own pulse. And it’ll be going a mile a minute, like mine.”

Hal pinched Roy’s nostrils together and bent to blow his breath into Roy’s mouth. Rick stared down at the top of Hal’s balding head as Hal desperately worked.

Hal placed his hands over Roy’s chest and began the heart massage again.

A moment later, a look of wonder transfigured Rick’s face. “I feel a pulse! He’s alive!”

Hal never paused. “Good. Go get the blanket out of the backseat of the squad. Hurry!”

Rick scurried away. He jerked open the backdoor and grabbed the wool Army blanket. Then he happened to look at Betty. She was bent over, holding her stomach and moaning.

“Mrs. Doran? Is anything wrong?”

“I think. The baby. I think the baby is coming! Oh! Help me!”

Rick stared and gulped. “Lie down, ma’am.” He helped the shaking woman lie on the seat. “I-I’ll get the sheriff. He’ll know what to do.” He tripped over his own feet in his haste to cross the few yards to where Hal knelt.

Hal looked annoyed. “Where the hell have you been?!” He grabbed the blanket from Rick. “This man is in shock!”

“Mrs. Doran….” Rick managed to gasp as he panted for air. “—she says, she says the baby’s coming….”

Hal stopped smoothing the blanket and stared up at Rick as if he didn’t want to understand. “The baby?”

Rick nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Lord,” Hal muttered as he pulled himself to his feet. “You stay with Roy.”

“But, but I can’t do that! I don’t know what to do….”

“Someone has to watch him! Keep him quiet. If we both leave, he could die on us. Let him know you‘re with him. Keep him calm and have him sleep. But keep him here with you. Don't let him go. He‘s needed.” Hal ran for the squad.

Rick tucked the blanket around Roy’s shoulders and glanced at the patrol car. Hal had the door open so Rick could see him bending over the seat in the glow of the dome light. Rick winced as he listened to Betty Doran’s loud moans and tearing screams.

Rick wasn’t the only one who heard. Roy was aroused by his wife’s cries. “Betty? Betty? What’s wrong, Betty? Where are you?”

“Mr. Doran, you have to lie still. Please.”

“Who are you? Where’s Betty?”

“I’m Rick Medina. Sheriff Endicott is with your wife. Everything’s going to be okay, sir. But you’re sick and you have to be quiet.”

“Am I dying?!”

“Please be quiet, Mr. Doran. The sheriff and I are doing all we can to help you. Now, you have to help yourself by lying still. Please, Mr. Doran. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. That’s it, Mr. Doran. Just rest.” He gently rubbed the face of the sick man until Doran relaxed and slept. Rick often did the same thing for his father when drinking gave him a violent headache or when his crippled leg hurt him.

“Medina! Get over here!”

Rick sped for the police car. Before he reached it, he heard a sharp slap followed by a baby screaming in anger. “Is it over?” he demanded as he stood behind the door.

Hal’s face was twisted with concern when he looked up. “My pocketknife and lighter are on the front seat. Sterilize the knife and hand it to me.”

Rick did as he was told. He fumbled slightly as he nervously handed the knife to Hal who flinched. Rick sucked air in through his teeth and grimaced. Hal had burned his fingers on the hot steel, and Rick knew that pain had registered.

Hal cut the cord of the howling baby, but all that Rick could see was Hal’s face as he worked. Barely breathing, Rick watched intently. He knew the seriousness of what was happening in the back seat.

“There’s Kleenex in the desk.” 

Rick dove across the front seat to fetch them.

“Is everything all right?”

Hal didn’t even look at him. “Get back to Roy.”

Rick complied. As he knelt over Doran, he could hear sirens wailing in the distance. He drew his first deep breath since seeing the ditched Chevy.

Hal wove slowly toward the Chevy and with a sigh fell to his knees beside Roy. His big hands settled limply to his legs and quivered spasmodically. “How is he?”

Rick glanced over the top of Roy at Hal’s tired face covered with sweat and deep lines. “Okay. He woke up when his wife was screaming, but he went back to sleep in a few minutes. How are Mrs. Doran and the baby?”

Hal grinned wearily. “Just fine. They’ve got a girl. She’s a little early, but I think she’ll be all right.”

Rick was elated and a grin tugged around his lips. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as he gazed at Hal.

Hal felt droll at Rick’s childlike delight with their success, and Hal’s grin warmed into a gentle smile. “What’s wrong? Never helped save a life before?”

“No, sir,” Rick answered softly.

Hal sobered. “It’s an awesome thing to hold someone’s life in your hands, to know you make the difference in his living or dying. It’s a feeling you’ll never get used to, or tired of. It makes the tiny hairs tingle on the back of your neck, and you know it’s more than the night wind caressing your shoulders.”

Rick shivered.

Hal’s voice softened into a quiet hush. “I think it’d be appropriate for us to give thanks now.”

Some thing electrical skipped across Rick’s shoulder blades. “Give thanks?” he echoed.

“It was more than you and me working out here tonight, boy. I don’t go to church much, but I sure recognize and appreciate the help of a Higher Being when I get it. And I intend to thank Him.” He bowed his bare head.

Rick felt hot and cold all over as he stared at Hal. He never figured that Hal would be religious. Yet, here Hal knelt silently in the red Oklahoma dirt while a chilly breeze began to ruffle his thinning hair. Rick bowed his head, too, and kept it there while the ambulance sirens drew nearer. Rick was too disoriented to form a proper prayer. He just hoped he was reinforcing whatever Hal was saying.

The ambulance screeched to a stop, and Hal rose to direct the evacuation. Gone were his weariness and contemplation of a moment before. Now he was all serious business.

Rick backed out of the way when the stretcher-bearers ran toward Roy Doran. He couldn’t shake off Hal’s reverent mood as easily as Hal had. Dazed, Rick allowed his eyes to follow Hal as the lawman helped to pick up the stretcher containing Roy Doran’s tremendous bulk.

Rick watched the drama over his shoulder as he stumbled toward the squad car. He didn’t want to hold Hal up when the sheriff was finally ready to roll. Along the way, Rick found Hal’s Stetson on the highway, picked it up, and dusted it off.

In the car, Mrs. Doran smiled thinly at Rick. “Thank you,” she whispered in a weak voice, then fell into an exhausted sleep.

Rick craned his neck, but couldn’t see the baby inside the bundle of cloth clutched in Betty Doran’s arms. Only later did Rick learn that the baby’s first receiving blanket had been her mother’s cotton slip. All Rick recognized were the matted bloodstains, and he knew that the Dorans were still in danger.

“Watch out, son,” someone said in Rick’s ear and pushed him aside. The ambulance attendant reached inside the squad for Mrs. Doran.

Rick slipped around the car to stand at its right front bumper. He watched as Mrs. Doran and her baby were loaded into the ambulance.

As the ambulance screamed away, Jim Adams and his wrecker arrived. Hal directed as the Chevy was pulled out of the grader ditch.

Nearly an hour had passed since Mrs. Doran had first appeared in Hal’s headlights.

At last the wrecker roared away, too. Hal watched it head toward town as he dusted off his clothes. Then he walked back to the squad where Rick stood waiting. They were the only two left on the scene. Desolation and the quiet country night crowded around them. The revolving red light was their only companion.

Wearily, Hal leaned against the car’s hood and bent his head. “Whew! Am I glad that’s over.”

“Did you burn your fingers?” Rick asked from the other side of the hood.

Hal looked up. “Burn my fingers? Oh, you mean on the knife. Nah. Just surprised me a little, that’s all. At least this hand now matches the one the coffee burned last week.” His attempt at levity was lost in his exhaustion.

Rick stared down the dark road toward Beardsley. “I sure hope they’ll be okay. I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” he said wistfully.

Hal narrowed his eyes at Rick. “You did all right. Nobody could fault you for your conduct out here tonight.”

The unexpected approval embarrassed Rick. He knew Hal wasn’t the type to hand out praise lightly. But when he did, he meant what he said.

Flustered, Rick stuck out his hand. “Here’s your hat.”

“Oh, you found it. I wondered if the ambulance drove over it.” He patted the Stetson into shape. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital and find out about the Dorans.”

They crawled into the car. Moments passed, but they didn’t move.

“Anything wrong?”

Hal held up his hands. “Look at that! Now, I get the shakes. Lucky I kept a cool head awhile ago.”

Rick rustled around. “Here.”

“What’s that?”

“Coffee.”

Hal gratefully accepted the cup. “Just what I needed. That’s better than an hour nap.” He spent a few minutes drinking the steaming liquid, then handed back the empty cup. “Now, to the hospital,” he said with renewed energy. His tiredness lay drowned in the bottom of his coffee cup.

 

In the hospital, Hal and Rick found Dr. Murphy at the nurses’ station.

“Hey, Doc, how’s Roy Doran?”

“Touch and go, Sheriff, but he’s got a good chance.”

“That’s good news. Hard to imagine a young guy like him having a coronary.”

“That’s what’s going to happen to you some day, Hal, if you don’t lose some weight. You’ll wind up like Roy, and he’s a lot younger than you are. You’re digging your grave with your mouth, Hal.”

Hal shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “How are Betty and the baby?”

Murphy smiled broadly. “Betty’s fine. She’s resting now. As for the baby, go find out for yourselves.”

A few minutes later, Hal and Rick stared through the nursery’s big window.

“Looks like they’ve got several.”

“There. There she is!” Rick pointed out the tiny, red-faced infant among the other newborns. His darting eyes were bright with interest as he stared, fascinated. “Just look at her,” he urged in wonder.

But Hal wasn’t looking at the baby. He was studying Rick as if he’d never seen him before. And, indeed, he never had seen this Rick. Gone was the sullen, smart-lipped outcast who’d outwitted the three boys at the school that very evening. This Rick was animated with excitement. His awe made the Doran baby special.

Hal felt a tolerant humor. Rick must’ve never been around babies before.

Rick inspected the baby more critically, and his enthusiasm dulled. “She’s ugly. All red and wrinkled like that.”

Hal chuckled. “I’m sure her mother would appreciated hearing that. Premature babies look like dried-out prunes. They haven‘t filled out yet.”

“Hey, she’s got a name already!” Rick craned his neck. “But the handwriting’s hard to read. L, O….” he spelled. “R, I.” He looked at Hal. “Lori. She’s named after Lori.”

Pain flashed across Hal’s face as he turned away from the window. “I’m sure Betty did that to please me.”

“Maybe it’s the name they’d picked out.”

“It’d be quite a coincidence, wouldn’t it?” He glanced at the nursery window. “Here’s where I first saw my Lori. I’d never seen such a pretty baby.” He turned away. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get back on patrol.”

Back in town, they cruised up the quiet Main Street. Most of the businesses had closed for the evening, and the farmers and ranchers had left for home. The movie crowd hadn’t been released from the show house yet, and the few stragglers generally in front of the drugstore had gone inside or had left. If any teens roamed the highway, they were driving reasonably slow. Rick’s fate and Lori’s death loomed too recently in their minds and worked as a detriment to any speeding. But in a few weeks, or even days, that tragedy would mostly be forgotten. Soon, teenagers would be racing out on the quarter again.

Hal pulled into the Dairy Diner parking lot. The first blocks from the hospital, he’d been melancholy. Then he remembered how irked he’d become when Doctor Murphy reminded him of his own weight problem. Hal knew he should lose weight. He knew the extra pounds were harmful to his heart and other organs. But like thousands of other overweight people, he was going to show the doctor that he was still boss of his own body. No one was going to tell him if he could eat or not.

“Want some ice cream?”

“No.”

“The sheriff’s department is buying. After all, you earned it out on the road tonight.”

“No, thanks.”

Hal was frustrated. He wanted to use Rick as an excuse to get the ice cream that he was now craving. At first, Hal simply wanted to show Doctor Murphy that he could eat whatever he wanted. Now, he had a genuine longing for the delicacy.

“What flavor do you like? Chocolate or vanilla?”

Rick’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Look, I don’t want any ice cream! And if I did, I’ve got my own money to pay for it. But don’t let me stop you. If you want some ice cream, go ahead and buy it.”

Hal glared at Rick. If Rick had reminded him of what Doctor Murphy had told him, Hal would’ve gotten thee ice cream just to prove to Rick that he could.

But Hal had nothing to prove, so he left the Dairy Diner without his ice cream cone. He didn’t miss it as much as he thought he would.

At ten-thirty, Hal dropped Rick off at his house.

“Looks like your dad’s home tonight.”

“Probably fell asleep watching TV. He worked at the feed store today.”

“You better get right to bed, too. You’ve had a full evening.”

Rick hesitated. “Is it always this wild being sheriff?”

Hal smiled bitterly as he stared at the car hood. “Every day is different, and that’s a fact. I never know what test the good Lord’s got set up for me.”

“I thought a lawman just hassled kids and arrested drunks. I thought the bit about helping people was just a lot of bull. I mean, REALLY helping people. Not just a lot of publicity about the square-jawed cop looking true blue.”

Hal rolled his eyes toward the car roof. “Lordy Lord, D.L. Farley was right! No wonder he’s a judge, and I’m not. Look, kid, cops are people, same as anyone else. You’d have to look awfully hard to find a square jaw on me. No, we’re only human. We’ve got our good points and our bad.”

Rick remembered Hal’s childish tantrum about the ice cream. That behavior was from a man who, in the same night, had awed Rick with his religious reverence and devotion to duty and human life.

“Yes, sir.”

“Better get in the house now; or your dad will be calling the station, demanding to know where you are.”

“Yes, sir.” A new thought struck Rick. “How long do you stay on patrol after you let me out?”

“It depends on when people give up and go home. Mostly around midnight, I’d say. Charlie, the night watch, comes on duty then.”

“Sounds like a long night.”

“It is. Now, get out of my car and let me get back to work, will you?” It was a polite request, not a harsh demand.

Rick obeyed. Again he watched the squad car leave, but this week he had almost a warm feeling about the patrol. He’d helped save three lives, and he felt good inside. And it was such a strange feeling after being surrounded by so much unhappiness for so many months. He grinned. Happiness was such a simple thing, but there was no feeling like it.

When Rick opened the front door of his house, he heard the groaning. His grin disappeared as he ran to where his father lay writhing on the couch.

“Dad? What’s wrong? Are you sick?” He tried to pat Bert’s face, but Bert shoved his hand aside.

“I woke up. My leg! It hurts! Oh, it hurts, boy.”

“Did you take your pills?”

“My pills. Oh, get my pills, boy. I couldn’t move. It hurts so bad.”

Rick’s fingers shook as he dug the pills out of a kitchen cabinet drawer and ran with them and a glass of water back to Bert. Tears stung his eyes. Bert wasn’t drunk, just half-delirious with pain. Rick cursed himself. While he’d been chatting pleasantly outside with the sheriff, his father had been suffering and needing his help.

“I told you not to try working down at the feed store. Carrying fifty-pound sacks of chicken feed puts a strain on your bad leg.”

“I wanted to, to make some extra, eh, money, son, so you, you could get some of the, things other, boys your age, h-have.”

“ My God, Dad, nothing’s worth your suffering. I don’t need those other things, just your good health.”

“You’re a, damned good kid.” He grimaced.

“Do you want a doctor, Dad? I could call the hospital.”

The pills started to work. “No doctor,” he said sleepily. “No hospital.” He rallied some and grabbed Rick’s shirt. “Promise me, boy. No hospital.”

Bert would go crazy in a hospital. He couldn’t have liquor.

“I promise.”

“And that you won’t leave me.”

Rick gently stroked Bert’s face. “Leave you? How could I do that, Dad? Where else would I go? Who else would be good to me?”

“Just remember that, boy,” Bert said sleepily. “All we’ve got is each other. Nobody else wants us.” His eyelids slid shut.

Bert was right, but Rick was burning from his father’s reminder. For a little while tonight, he’d forgotten he was different and an outcast. But Bert had reopened Rick’s eyes.

“Sleep now. That’s right. Sleep. And I’ll be here when you wake up.” Rick watched as his father relaxed and slept. Bert needed him. That should’ve made Rick feel good. Instead, the nice warm feeling inside was gone.

Rick sighed and straightened his father’s blanket. Then he wrapped himself in another blanket, curled up on the floor, and went to sleep beside his father.

 

At midnight, Hal drove back to the police station. George Adams and Helen, the blonde dispatcher, were waiting for him. Smiles covered their faces.

“You must’ve heard what happened with the Dorans.”

“Jim told us. He said you saved their lives. That’s wonderful, Hal!”

Hal smiled self-consciously. “Thanks, Helen. But I couldn’t have done it without the Medina kid.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Nah.” Hal dropped into his chair. “I couldn’t think of any good reason to, George.”

“I can think of three, and they’re alive right now because of what you and the boy did. He should know you were at least grateful for his help.”

The lecture annoyed Hal. “I offered to buy him some ice cream.”

George and Helen stared at each other. Stable Hal Endicott rarely made such ridiculous statements.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve been enough, Hal.”

Hal was tired of the lecture. “I’ll come down tomorrow to finish these reports, George. Maybe it’ll be quieter then.” He huffed out of the office.

Helen Adams raised her eyebrows at her father-in-law. “Pretty touchy, isn’t he?”

“Just damnation stubborn, that’s all. He wouldn’t like Rick no matter what he did.”

“That’s too bad for the boy. Hal could really help him.”

“But Hal’s caught in a crossfire,” George said.

“I know. He took Lori’s death awfully hard.”

“It’s a lot to ask a father to forget, Helen, but I personally think Hal Endicott can do just that. I have faith in his sense of duty.”

“Apparently, D.L. Farley agrees with you, or he wouldn’t have handed down such a strange sentence to Medina. I hope for the boy’s sake that you and D.L. are right.”

“Hal’s a good cop. He believes in the law.”

“Meaning he’s a cop first and a parent second?”

“I didn’t say that, Helen.”

“I know, but some people have.”

“To me, it just shows what a great lawman he really is.”

“I won’t give you any argument there, George.”

“But it’s hard for him to be impartial now. It would be for any father. I know how I’d feel about someone who was responsible for Jim’s death.”

“Poor Hal! This must really be tearing him up inside. He’s so easygoing, and yet he’s bound to detest Medina.”

“Folks respect Hal before they like him, Helen. You know how he can act sometimes. He gets so carried away with his job that he seems cold and distant, even to his family and friends.”

“He’s preoccupied. And he has a lot of problems at home.”

“Amen! Some of his womenfolk could turn a saint to a life of crime. Tanning a few hides would help them. Lori could’ve really used that cure.”

“Now, George, it’s not nice to speak ill of the dead. Besides, your womenfolk spoil you. Lucy and I are like slaves to you and Jim. We cater to your every whim.”

“Fat chance of that! Jim and I know who the real bosses are in this family.” He grinned. “And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Come on. It’s time to close up shop. The night watch has taken over the town, anyway.”

 

Hal was still huffy as he drove home. How dare George and Helen question his handling of Medina! The Adamses were close friends, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to judge him.

Besides, thinking back over the Doran incident, Hal realized he had thanked Rick without really coming out and saying it. Medina had understood plainly enough that Hal couldn’t have managed alone.

Hal thought of the ice cream incident and of how Rick had outwitted him. The kid was sharp, all right. He probably used the same technique to keep Bert from drinking.

Hal remembered how easily Rick had gotten rid of the three belligerent boys at the school without anyone swinging a blow. Hal grinned. That Medina kid was a real master! He knew Hal wouldn’t beat up kids, but the other boys didn’t and were out bluffed.

Yes, Medina was crafty, all right. Hal would have to keep on his toes around him and learn all he could about his enemy.

 

“Working kind of late, aren’t you?”

Hal looked up from his desk in the jailhouse. “Thought you went home, George. Isn’t Wednesday your usual bowling night?”

“Yep, but I’ve got some time.” George tilted back his chair. “I stopped for a pint of strawberry ice cream at the Cozy Corner Café and ran into Clyde Samuelson. Sounds like quite a little write-up he’s going to put in the CLARION about you saving the Doran family.”

“Clyde talked to me about an hour Sunday afternoon,” Hal answered as he absently drummed his pencil against his left palm. “I missed part of a good football game on TV, but Clyde got his story. Folks remember rescues like that come election time.”

“Clyde said you gave Rick Medina credit for helping you. That’s might fine of you, Hal.”

“He deserved credit.”

“And it tells me you’re a mighty big man, too. That’s what gets you re-elected, Hal, not daring rescues. Folks know you’ve got every reason to wish Rick in Hell. Not many men could rise about that.”

Hal stopped his drumming. “Like I told Medina, I’m just doing my job. I’m keeping my personal feelings out of our relationship.”

“But for how long, Hal? That kid needs a lot of help himself, and I know you. You adopt strays.”

“Not this one, George. I can’t be that objective.”

George sighed. “Well, it was just a thought. I have a feeling Rick’s a good kid at heart. He needs a firm hand, though.”

“There’s nothing wrong your hand, George.”

George grinned. “Wish I could agree with you, but my hand’s too old. Guess I better be getting on home now.” He pulled himself out of his chair with great effort. “Lucy will be wondering why I let our dessert melt. Oh, by the way, I got to talking to Bud Murdock down at the Cozy Corner, too. He said Ben Marshall’s been doing Roy Doran’s chores.”

“Oh? That’s real neighborly of Ben.”

“Ben’s had help, too. Rick Medina’s ridden out every evening after school to help.”

Hal frowned. “Ridden? How?”

“On a mini-bike.”

Hal tossed aside his pencil. “He can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He can’t drive anything without my permission.”

“A mini-bike isn’t exactly a car, Hal.” 

“It’s still a vehicle, George.” He stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Where else? After the kid.” He grabbed his Stetson.

“Want me to come along?”

“Nope. This is my problem.” Hal slammed the door.

George shook his head. “Darn it! Sorry, kid. I thought he’d take it differently.”

 

“Evening, Hal!” the jovial, red-cheeked farmer boomed. “Getting chilly as hell damned fast this year, don’t you think?” Ben Marshall set down his pails filled with foaming milk and leaned his big-boned frame against the squad car. “What can I do for the Law? Turn myself in?” A big grin spread across his florid face. “Has that woman of mine been complaining about me again?”

Hal grinned back. Ben and Elsie Marshall were two of the most married people he knew. If Elsie ever found any fault with Ben, it was that he pampered her too much.

“Not this time, Ben. But I’m keeping my eye on you.“

Ben laughed. “Somebody better! I’m as incorrigible as hell!“

“I’ll remember that,“ Hal said as he laughed along with the amiable man. Then he said, “I understand that you and the Medina kid have been doing Roy Doran’s chores.”

“That’s right. Rick didn’t know a damned thing about feeder cattle a few days ago, but he caught on real fast. He’s a pretty good worker, after he learned to stay out of the way of those spooky steers. But he’s like any other kid. Not afraid of anything, including those steers.”

“Is he here with you now?”

“Rick? No, he left Roy’s place when I did. Why?”

Hal frowned. “I didn’t meet him on the road. Would he have gone back to Doran’s for any reason?”

“Not that I know of.”

Hal squinted down the road. “Think I’ll check Doran’s place, anyway. Especially the cattle lots.”

“Want me to come along? Hal?”

Hal came out of his reverie. “No. No, that’s okay, Ben. But if he does show up here, I’d appreciate it if you’d call the office. They’ll let me know by radio.”

“Sure thing.” Ben glanced toward the Doran farm. “You should’ve met him, Hal.”

“I know.”

“Listen, if anything’s happened to him, I want to know. I want to hear even if he’s okay, you hear?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stay by the phone. Hal, I hope you find him. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

 

The setting sun turned Rick and the mini-bike he was pushing into shimmering, golden figures. Rick heard the approaching patrol car and watched as it executed a wide loop around him and pulled to the edge of the blacktop.

His mouth was one grim line as Hal barreled around his cruiser. 

“Don’t you know you’re walking on the wrong side of the road?! Face traffic! And where have you been?! I’ve been all over Hell and half of Oklahoma looking for you! Why weren’t you on the road awhile ago?!”

“I, I saw you coming and hid behind some brush. I knew you’d be mad if you found me.”

“You’re damned right I’m mad! Don’t you remember your sentence?! You aren’t supposed to be driving without my permission! And another thing! Don’t you know you could get hurt around cattle if you’re not used to them?!”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Hal’s temper cooled. “What’s wrong with the bike?”

“It wouldn’t start after I got it out of the brush. I hit it against a tree trunk when I hid.”

“Well, let’s get it loaded up.” Hal unlocked the trunk and they lifted the unwieldy machine inside.

“Get in the car.”

They rode in silence to Beardsley.

Hal stopped the cruiser in front of Rick’s house.

“Get out.”

“What about my bike?”

“I’m confiscating it. It’ll be in my garage. You’ll get it back in three months.”

Rick saw it’d do no good to argue.

“And call Ben Marshall.”

“Huh?”

“Call Ben Marshall. He’s worried about you. Damn it! He should’ve known better than to let you get around those spooky steers. We both figured you’d been trampled to pieces.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Sheriff.”

“You didn’t have me scared! I’m responsible for you, that’s all. My rear-end would be in a sling if something happened to you. So, just be careful, and you’ll keep us both out of trouble. Go on now. Get out of the car.”

With a puzzled look on his face, Rick stood on the sidewalk and watched the sheriff’s car disappear down the street. For a man who claimed not to be scared and worried, Endicott surely had acted like it.

 

Four-thirty, Thursday evening found Rick walking a mile north of Beardsley toward the Doran farm. Several cars had passed him, but nobody had offered him a ride. They were mostly other teenagers on their way home from school. And none of them knew or liked Rick enough to pick him up.

Rick faced approaching traffic. He’d learned that much from the sheriff.

A car slowed behind him. Probably another student who’d honk and shout, burn rubber and throw dust in Rick’s face.

A short horn beep turned Rick’s head.

Hal Endicott glowered at him. “Get in.”

Once again, Rick was wise enough not to argue. He shuffled around the squad car and piled inside.

Hal’s mouth was one grim line as he drove. “Don’t give up easy, do you?”

Rick didn’t answer.

“Don’t you know that nine miles is a hell of a walk?”

“Is there any law against walking? Don’t tell me I can’t do that without permission now, either.”

“We don’t need any of that smart lip today!”

Rick stared at the floor.

“How come you took out walking, anyway?”

“It’s the only way I could get out to the Dorans. You took my bike. Remember?”

“One of the school bus drivers called me. He saw you out on the road. Were you going to walk all the way back?”

“I hoped Ben Marshall would give me a ride to town.”

“Why the hell are you breaking your neck to get out here every night? Why is it so important?”

“I just wanted to help,” Rick mumbled. “Generally, nobody wants my help. They don’t even want me around. But the Dorans are in no position to be choosey. Are we going back to town now?”

“Nope. To the Dorans. Three pairs of hands are better than two.”

Rick stared at Hal, but Hal concentrated on his driving.

When they got to Doran’s farm, they found truckers loading the steers.

“Roy has to sell the stock, Hal, He won’t be able to work for a long time, and so he and Betty are getting rid of their herd.”

“That’s a shame, Ben. Those steers aren’t prime yet. They won't be getting out of them what they should.”

“I know, but that’s how things go when you farm. It’s a gamble. Roy and Betty said they couldn’t expect their friends and neighbors to tend the cattle forever. A few days, yes, but not for months. I’d been willing as hell to have done it, but they wouldn’t hear of it. And, Rick, they sure appreciate your help, too.”

“Well, if it’s got to be done,” Hal said, “we’ll help get them loaded. Kid, you be careful.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Hal and Rick climbed the fence and stood amongst the herd with Ben.

“Extra help’s always welcomed, Hal, but watch these steers. They’re playful.”

“I’ve been around cattle before.” The words were barely passed his lips when a skittish steer butted him to the ground.

“Hey!” Rick yelled at the steer and chased it away.

Ben pulled Hal to his feet and dusted Hal’s uniform free of debris. “Are you all right, Hal?”

Hal scowled at the grin on Rick’s face. “I will be, in time.” But Ben’s grin showed him the humor of his accident, and he smiled shyly. “Guess it’s longer than I thought since I’ve been around cattle.”

Ben slapped Hal’s arm. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s finish this roundup.” And when he and Rick laughed, it wasn’t at Hal’s expense.

Back in the squad car, Rick said, “Well, at least I won’t be causing any more trouble by coming out here.”

“There was nothing wrong in helping the Dorans.”

“But you acted like….”

“What caused trouble was the way you got back and forth.”

Rick scooted down in the seat and folded his arms. “I expect you would’ve driven me out there every night and helped, too,” he grumbled.

“You never asked.”

Rick sat up. “You would’ve?”

“Roy’s got a lot of friends. We all would’ve helped if we’d know about those chores. Remember, kid, it never hurts to ask.”

 

That Friday morning, Rick entered the high school building as unobtrusively as he always did and wandered unseen by others toward his locker. The halls were noisy with students greeting their friends, but no one spoke to Rick as he looked at the floor. Every morning was the same.

But this particular morning became an exception.

“There’s the hero now!”

“Yeah! Wonder how it feels to be a hero?”

Rick paid no attention. They were probably talking to some of the football boys. No one ever spoke to him.

“Hey, Medina, aren’t you going to tell us how you saved those people? Or do you let the sheriff do all of your bragging for you?”

Rick spun. True amazement crossed the face he generally tried to keep covered with a mask of indifference.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Dorans! That’s who.”

“Yeah. Roy and Betty.”

Rick stared into the sea of belligerent faces and noticed a grudging respect from his fellow students.

“How did you find out?”

“It’s in the county paper, hero! Page one is smeared full of it. Sheriff Endicott says he couldn’t have saved the Dorans without you.”

Rick’s face reddened. The other boy’s answer had been mocking at first, but had ended in awe and admiration. Rick was confused and flustered. Angry, jeering words he could handle, but not praise.

Rick stared at the floor in embarrassment. “The sheriff exaggerated.”

“We’ve known Hal Endicott a long time. He doesn’t exaggerate.”

The noises of lockers slamming shut and of people laughing and talking reached Rick’s ears, but he stood in a sea of quiet. The crowd around him waited without a sound.

Their eyes made Rick feel uneasy. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I just did what the sheriff told me to do.”

A short freshman girl stepped forward and looked up shyly at Rick. “I know what to say. Betty is my cousin, and you helped to save her life. Thank you.” Her head motioned toward the students behind her. “I guess we all want to say thank you, but we don’t know how. We don’t know you very well, and I, ah, guess that’s our loss.”

Rick stared at her bowed head and realized how hard it must’ve been for the shy girl to speak to him. But she was right. Nobody knew him very well. And whose fault was that but his own?

“I was glad I could help the Dorans. Any of you would’ve done the same thing. And being a hero wouldn’t have crossed your minds, either. Just how scared you were.”

On the edge of the crowd stood Joe Pallock. He caught Rick’s eye, grinned, and winked. He was congratulating and supporting Rick, but still couldn’t buck opinion enough to stand up to the crowd and be Rick’s friend.

Rick saw Jesse Harris and his two friends, too. Jesse had a skeptical look on his face as if he didn’t quite trust Rick anymore. Jesse and his crowd were outcasts like Rick, but Rick had never been friendly with them, just classed with them. He knew he’d never be welcomed in Jesse’s circle now since he rode with the sheriff. Somehow, that didn’t seem like such a loss to Rick.

The other students looked at Rick with guarded admiration and curiosity. They’d known Lori and resented Rick for taking her from them. But if the sheriff, Lori’s father, could praise him, maybe they could find something good about him, too. In time.

They weren’t friendly toward Rick, but he wouldn’t be an outcast anymore, either. It was a start.

The class bell rang, and the crowd sugared away into nothing.

Rick was alone again.


	6. Hal's Home

“What do you have spotted, girl?!”

Gwen released the flowered drape and whirled to face the tall, big-boned woman glaring at her. “Rick Medina, Bertha.” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “He must be waiting for Uncle Hal. He’s been out there for almost twenty minutes.”

“Land’s sakes, child! It’s only fifty degrees out. He must be frozen by now. Tell him to come in!”

Gwen blushed under Bertha’s piercing black eyes. “I, I don’t know if I should. Uncle Hal might not approve. Besides, Rick Medina doesn’t even know me. He looks straight through me at school and….”

“Well, it’s high time you were meeting! Besides, I’m sort of curious about him myself.” Bertha threw open the front door. “Rick Medina! Get in this house this minute! Yes, you! Get in here!” She glared at Gwen. “No time for shyness when someone’s freezing.” She pulled the door shut behind the puzzled Rick as he stepped inside. “Don’t you have enough sense to come in out of the cold?! Now, get over to the fireplace and warm yourself.”

Startled, Rick stared at the bossy woman and then at Gwen for some explanation. Then Bertha grabbed his arm and steered him toward the crackling fire. She shoved him into an overstuffed chair, nodded in approval, and marched through a swinging door.

Rick bobbed his head toward the door she’d taken. “Who was that?!”

“Bertha Mendoza, our housekeeper. She’s part Cherokee, part Mexican, and part Texas longhorn, or so she claims.”

He stared at the door Bertha had taken. “I‘d believe it.” He looked back at Gwen. “Is she always that bossy?”

Gwen smiled thinly and nodded. “Afraid so.”

He studied her face. “Hey, I know you, don’t I? I’ve seen you around school. Gwen, Gwen, something-or-other….”

“Pfeiffer.”

“Yeah. Pfeiffer. That’s it.”

She tilted her head. “How come you remember my name? I’m two classes behind you.”

Rick shrugged. “Lori. She used to, ah, mention you….”

“Oh, of course, Lori….”

“You’re the cousin she had to share her room with, right?”

“Y-yes.” How Lori had resented Gwen’s presence in that bedroom! “We had to double up when her mother got sick and needed a room of her own.” Unpleasant memories flooded back to Gwen, memories of Lori treating her like the castoff orphan that she was. Gwen wished she knew how to change the subject gracefully. Then she heard Bertha returning and was grateful for the interruption.

Bertha shoved a cup of steaming coffee into Rick’s hands. “Here. Drink this.”

“I don’t drink coffee, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me! My name’s Bertha. And you’ll drink coffee tonight, Mr. Medina, or I’ll strip you down to the honest truth and throw you in a tub of hot water. You’ll get warm, young man. One way or the other.”

Rick figured she could do just that, too. She was bigger than he was and looked strong. He bet nobody crossed her path twice. “I’ll, I’ll drink the coffee, ma’am. Bertha. Thanks.” He sipped the bitter brew and made a face, but took another drink. “Good. Real good coffee. Real good.”

Bertha folded her hands together, squared her shoulders, and looked satisfied. “That’s more like it.” She studied his face closely. “Medina. Medina. You Mexican? Seems I remember knowing a whole passel of Medinas down by Houston.”

“Not that I know of, ma’am. Bertha.”

“Well, somebody back on your family tree must’ve been Spanish at one time or another, but you sure don’t look it now. Not with that dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes you‘re packing around.”

“I look more like my mother’s side. So does my brother Casey. But he’s got blonder hair, just like Mom.”

“Your mother? Now, who was she? Someone from around here?”

“Yes. Wanda Wakely.”

“Well, sure! Fred Wakely’s girl. I didn’t know her, but I knew Fred real well. He was always talking about his daughter and grandsons out in California. Too bad about Fred dying. He was a nice old gentleman. Kind of lonesome, though, with no family close. You folks still living in his house?”

“No, ah, my dad got rid of it. We’re renting a smaller place. There’s just him and me now, and we got lost rattling around in Grandpa’s big house.”

Bertha glanced at the ceiling over her head. “We like this old barn, but there’s enough of us to fill it out.” She consulted her wristwatch with its practical black band. “You sit there and warm yourself until the sheriff gets home. And next time, don’t wait outside. Come on in. Nobody said you had to freeze to death. The sheriff’s tough on folks, but he’s not that hard. Gwen, you keep Rick company. I have to go keep your uncle’s supper warm. Chances are, though, he’ll probably decide he doesn’t have time to eat. First, I can’t keep him on a reducing diet. And then I can’t get him to eat right. Men! They’re all a big bunch of babies. The whole lot of them. Just remember I said that, young lady. They all think they need to be mothered. And they’re right.” Bertha turned and marched out of the living room.

“Is she for real?”

“Yes,” Gwen answered demurely from the sofa. “That’s our Bertha, all right. She keeps this family going, though.”

“Where’d you find her? In an Army barracks?”

“Uncle Hal did. Well, almost. He met her during the Korean Conflict. She was a nurse at an Army hospital near Osaka, Japan, when he was an MP stationed there. He thought it’d be a quiet duty, but a lot of the patients had suffered mental damage in combat and became violent in the hospital. It was anything but quiet, and sometimes dangerous, there.”

“I bet Bertha could handle those patients, though.”

A small smile brushed Gwen’s lips. “Uncle Hal said she could wrestle almost anybody to the floor. They got to be friends when they found out they came from the same part of the States. After the war, they nearly lost track of each other. Neither one’s much of a letter writer. When my Aunt Margo got crippled, Uncle Hal asked Bertha to be her nurse and our housekeeper. She was just retiring from professional nursing, so she agreed. And she’s been with us ever since.”

The front door opened, and Sheriff Endicott stepped inside his home. His face was creased with tired lines, and he was so preoccupied that he didn’t even see Rick and Gwen sitting there.

Rick started to rise. Instinctively, he knew that the overstuffed chair he was sitting in belonged to Hal.

Gwen shook her head. “It’s all right. Stay there. Excuse me.” She hurried to her uncle’s side and touched his arm. “You’re late, Uncle Hal. We were worried.”

Hal hung his Stetson on the hat rack, revealing his thinning hair. “Yeah. Had to go clear to Summerville today.”

“Bertha’s got your supper ready.”

“No time for that. Gotta get cleaned up and go on night patrol. It’s nearly seven now.”

“George can take care of things for a little while. You should eat something first.”

“He’s a good man, honey, but he can’t cover the whole town. Has Medina been here? I didn‘t see him out front. He‘s generally out under the tree. Seems to have a particular fondness for it.”

“He’s over there by the fire.”

Rick tried to shrink into the chair.

“He was waiting outside in the cold. Bertha told him to come in. Well, ordered is more like it,” she added quickly.

“Whatever Bertha says, goes around here. That coffee looks good. Guess I’ve got time for a sandwich, too.”

Gwen smiled at him as they walked through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“Sandwich, my Sunday slipper!” Bertha bellowed from the kitchen. “You’ll sit down and eat that hot soup, too, or else I‘ll know the reason why!”

In the living room, Rick grinned as he heard a kitchen chair scrape across the floor. He couldn’t imagine anyone talking that way to Hal Endicott and getting away with it.

The kitchen door swung slowly open, and a small child clutching a jelly sandwich toddled into the living room. He gurgled and chattered in an incoherent language to some invisible playmate. Halfway across the living room, he spotted Rick and stopped. Balancing on uncertain legs, the tot stared wide-eyed at the stranger. His face was a concert of red jelly and timidity.

At any moment, Rick expected the youngster’s face to cloud up and rain. Rick remembered seeing the child in Bertha’s arms at Lori’s funeral, so he had to be Lori’s baby brother. And if the child cried now, he father would blame Rick. More trouble from the bull!

But the child’s cloudy face cleared into a beautiful smile. He seemed to understand that this fascinating stranger wouldn’t harm him, and he toddled toward Rick. He grabbed Rick’s knee and looked up with an engaging grin. “’Lo!” the little boy crowed.

That word amazed Rick. Since the child had trouble walking, Rick had assumed he was about a year old. Rick mentally added another year to the child’s age.

“Hello, hot shot. I’m Rick. What’s your name?”

The child jabbered something, but Rick couldn’t understand him. Then the child gleefully shoved his soggy jelly sandwich in Rick’s face.

“No, thank you, little guy. I’ve had my supper. Don’t you think you better go finish yours?”

The child looked toward the kitchen door, then back at Rick. With a merry grin, he shook his head from side to side so violently that he almost knocked himself over.

Rick reached out to steady him. “Watch it!” The baby flesh in Rick’s hand felt soft and yielding to the touch. Baby smells of powder and milk brought a sudden homesickness to Rick, but he couldn’t understand why. There were no babies in his family, only a drunken father. Yet, this baby boy made Rick homesick for family life the way he thought it really should be.

“Oh, here you are!” Gwen exclaimed with a smile for the child as she hurried out of the kitchen. “We wondered where you’d gotten to.” She picked up the baby and plunked down on the couch with him. “Where’d you get such a dirty face?”

With a delighted grin, the child showed her the sandwich.

She grinned back. “Oh, I see. Well, let’s get you all cleaned up before your daddy sees you. He wouldn’t want you to look like this in front of company.” She placed the soggy sandwich in an ashtray on the cocktail table and began to wipe the baby’s mouth with a tissue.

Rick noticed how animated Gwen became with the baby. At school, she was a mousy, drab creature who rarely looked up or spoke. “Have you been talking to Rick?” A delighted flush covered her pretty face as she looked at Rick. “This is my cousin, Randy Endicott.”

Rick couldn’t control the grin tickling his lips. “So that’s what he was saying. Sorry I didn’t understand you, little guy. Maybe I got some of your jelly in my ear.”

Randy grinned when he realized he was being teased.

“We understand him pretty well,” Gwen explained. “We’re proud of his speech. What worries us are his legs.”

“His legs? What’s wrong with his legs?”

“They might just be weak. His mother contacted polio shortly before he was born. We’re hoping her paralysis hasn’t affected him, but nobody knows for sure. Bertha says he might only be slow in developing the use of his muscles, and Doc Murphy agrees. We hope that’s the case. Meanwhile, it’s such a worry to all of us, especially Uncle Hal. Randy is his only son.”

Rick studied the happy baby and hoped that he was merely slow. No child deserved to be crippled, even if he had been fathered by Sheriff Endicott. The baby shouldn’t suffer a weakness because of his mother’s affliction, either.

Rick glanced at the ceiling. Margo Endicott, once a poised and sophisticated beauty, now lay partially bedridden upstairs. Several months before, the whole town had buzzed about Hal Endicott’s decision to care for his wife at home instead of sending her to an institution after suffering some mental slippage. But Bertha thought he could manage both Margo and the house, and Hal gratefully agreed.

Hal charged out of the kitchen, and Rick began to rise from his chair. “Sit still! Sit still! I have to go up and change my shirt. All these women tell me this one’s dirty.” He didn’t look so tired or preoccupied, anymore, but he was indignant about his shirt.

“Well, I’m not sending you out of here looking like a hobo!” Bertha bellowed behind him. “People would say I don’t take care of you properly.”

Hal stopped on the staircase. “But it’s just a little spot….”

“I don’t care! You get on up those stairs!”

“What are those kids down there going to think if you talk to me that way?”

“They’ll think you need a keeper. Which you do. Now, scoot!”

Hal threw up his hands. “Women!” Shaking his head, he trudged up the stairs.

“There, now,” Bertha said, dusting her hands. “That takes care of one man. Now, you, Rick Medina!”

Rick jumped. “Yes, ma’am! Ah, Bertha, I mean.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I ate at home.”

She folded her hands together and eyed him critically. “You look like you could stand to put on a pound or ten. Better have some of my sugar cookies. I baked a fresh batch this afternoon.”

“I don’t want any, honest. Thanks, anyway.”

“Well, if you change your mind, the grub’s in the kitchen.” She pushed her way through the swinging door.

Rick rolled his eyes dramatically at Gwen. “Boy! I thought nobody had the guts to tell HIM what to do. And now I’m thinking he’s got to be pretty brave to answer her the way he did.”

Gwen smiled softly. “When you get to know them better, you’ll discover that neither one is very harsh. It’s a game with them. They act tough, but they’re the best of friends. I think they must’ve learned to cut each other down like that when they were stationed together in Korea. They don’t mean anything by it. We think it’s cute and funny to listen to them.”

“They sure had me fooled! He’s the last guy I’d pick for a big, old, cuddly teddy bear!”

Gwen bristled. “Well, I suppose you do know a side to him that I don’t. To me, he’s my uncle and I love him.”

They stared at each other, and Rick learned something very important about Gwen. Generally meek and quiet, she could fight fiercely when backed into a corner. And he wanted her for a friend, not an enemy. She was easy to talk to.

“Of course, you do. And it’s very nice for both of you that you feel way about him. To me, though, he’s just the guy I have to ride with on Saturday nights.”

Gwen relaxed. “That’s no way to judge a man, is it? Look at his son. The son of an ogre should look like an ogre, but Randy isn’t.”

When Randy heard his name, he gave them a toothy grin. They smiled back at him.

“When my parents were injured in a tornado three years ago and later died, Uncle Hal took me in. Daddy’s relatives back in Illinois are rich, but none of them wanted to help me. Uncle Hal promised Mama, she was his sister, on her deathbed that he’d take care of me, and he has. Sometimes he’s preoccupied with his work or worried about Aunt Margo’s condition, so he seems a little cold. But he’s given me a roof over my head and a family again, and I love him for it.”

Rick thought Gwen’s love might be slightly tainted by gratitude and desperation, too, but he didn’t mention it.

“Look at his house,” she continued. “It used to be an old boarding house, but Grandpa Endicott knocked off one wing when he bought it back in 1921. That’s why there’s only four bedrooms upstairs. We’re crowded, but we manage to get along.” She allowed her eyes to drift around the living room. “We don’t have the most modern furniture, either, but we’re comfortable. I feel so safe and warm here. It’s home.”

Rick glanced around in appreciation. A roll-top desk. Scarred straight-back chairs. An old upright piano cluttered with sheet music and topped with family pictures.  
A television console in the corner. The flower-splattered sofa where Gwen and Randy sat. The furniture was as mundane and battered as his own, but it seemed homier in the glow of Gwen’s loving description.

Rick’s attention was drawn back to the collection of photographs on the upright piano, and the one in front made his heart ache.

Gwen followed his rapt gaze. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she? Uncle Hal had that portrait taken last summer when Lori was in the Cotton Princess Beauty Pageant.”

Gwen could tell by the way Rick looked at the picture that he missed Lori deeply. As always, Gwen shrank back in awe of her cousin. Even from the grave, Lori was able to reach out and cause misery. Gwen wondered if Rick had ever seen the cunning and egotism in Lori’s lovely face or had heard her acid tongue.

But Lorie wasn’t here anymore. Gwen was. And it was Gwen’s responsibility to draw a brooding guest away from a dead girl’s memory.

“See that picture over there? The one of the bride and groom? That’s Uncle Hal and Aunt Margo. They got married after the Korean War when he was stationed in California. That’s where they met. See? He’s wearing his Army uniform.”

“That’s your uncle?! Was he ever really that young?”

Hal’s likeness showed a slim, devilishly handsome soldier with a wide, engaging grin and a shock of blonde hair. Rick had seen that same grin recently, and then he remembered Randy’s smile.

“Oh, yes, but the last few years have aged him. Bertha says he’d look younger if he lost weight. Aunt Margo’s features haven’t changed much since her wedding day, though. She’s still as beautiful as ever.”

Rick studied the other person in the photo. He saw a cool, self-assured blonde with a short pageboy hairdo who wore a bluish-gray suit and pearl earrings. She did resemble the woman in the wheelchair at Lori’s funeral. But Gwen had been wrong about Margo’s not changing. The picture showed a poised lady. At the funeral Rick had seen a woman whose mouth twisted down in bitterness and scorn. And hatred.

“Don’t you think my mother’s pretty?” a new voice demanded in Rick’s ear.

Rick spun around. “What?!” He looked into a pair of dark brown eyes in an impish face surrounded by short, blonde hair. “Where did you come from?!” he demanded, startled by her sudden appearance.

The little girl pointed backwards. “Right now, from the kitchen. But you’ll have to ask Pops about the rest. I’m only eight, and he say I’m too young to know about such things.”

Rick felt himself color.

“Dodie!” Gwen scolded. “Don’t talk that way to a guest.”

“Don’t forget you’re just a guest here yourself!”

This time Gwen colored, and Rick realized that Lori’s younger sister was as spoiled as Lori had been.

The sound of shattering glass reached them, and they all looked toward the stairway. A door opened, and the voice of an angry woman berating someone rolled through the house. Then the door closed, and the noise ceased.

The little girl smiled in glee. “Oh, boy! Mom’s really giving it to him good tonight.”

Rick stared at Dodie. When the glass broke, he had seen her jump and look scared. And when her mother yelled at her father, Dodie tightly gripped the arm of Rick’s chair. Her actions didn’t mirror her sarcasm.

“What are you staring at?!” the girl demanded. “Who are you, anyway? What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m Rick Medina and I’m waiting for your father. I’m still not sure what I’m staring at, though. I think it’s a little girl, but it sounds more like a monster.”

She didn’t know what to think of him at first, and then humor flickered in her eyes. “Yes, I am a monster! And I can, Arrrr! eat you up, just like that!” She pounced at him.

“Dodie, don’t do that! Rick will wonder about your manners and who taught them to you.”

The little girl paid Gwen no heed, but put one hand on her slim hip and studied Rick. “I’ve seen you before.” A light shone in her eyes. “You were at Lori’s funeral! Pops wouldn’t let you in the church.” With wicked gleams in her dark eyes, she leaned toward Rick to enjoy his growing discomfort. “I know you, all right. You’re the one who killed my sister.”

“That’s enough of that, Dodie,” Hal said sternly.

Dodie straightened. “But it’s the truth, Pops!”

Hal cleared the bottom stair step. “You treat your sister’s death with a little more respect.” He was trying to tie a black four-in-hand as he walked and wasn’t being too successful.

“But, Pops!”

Hal gave her a stern look. “One more word out of you, young lady, and you won’t be watching TV tonight.”

Dodie huffed, but flounced wordlessly to the far end of the sofa where she collapsed in an angry heap.

Hal started for the kitchen. “Bertha!”

Bertha immediately appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Hal gave his tie its final adjustment. “Margo’s having one of her rougher evenings.”

“I heard.”

Rick was amazed by the change in them. Both had become businesslike and formal. Gone was the casual bickering of a few minutes ago.

“Don’t hesitate to use the hypo if you think she needs it. Helen can contact me by two-way if you want any help.”

“Don’t worry.” A hint of her old crispness came back into her voice. “I can handle it.”

He nodded. “Good enough. Let’s get going, Medina.” He grabbed his Stetson as he passed the hat rack.

Dodie glared at Rick, huffed, and crossed her arms. Randy grinned hopefully for more play. Gwen gave Rick a pensive look, and he returned her shy grin.

At the front door, Rick remembered to call, “Good evening, Bertha! Thanks for the coffee. And it was nice meeting you.”

Bertha lifted a dark, bushy eyebrow. “Harrumph! I bet! And no more standing outside on cold nights. Just knock and come on in.”

Rick crawled in the squad car, and they started patrol. The watch would be a quiet one because most of the teenagers and adults had gone to a carnival at Rock View, thirty miles away, in the next county.

Hal said very little as he drove down the street, and Rick could understand why. With such a home life, it was a wonder that Hal could concentrate on his job at all.

Rick studied Hal out of the corner of his eye. The sheriff had problems, too. That surprised Rick. Up until Lori’s death, he’d seen Hal in only one dimension, the stubborn, humorless, self-righteous personification of the Law. But each Saturday night disclosed a new side of Hal, especially tonight in his own home. There, he was merely the overworked, harassed father with bills to pay and a family to raise. Just like any other father.

Not quite. Not quite like other fathers, Rick realized bitterly. His own was a shiftless, irresponsible drunk who’d finally driven away his even-tempered wife. Rick’s mother must’ve been desperate to leave without her son. Rick didn’t blame her for leaving. He just wished she could’ve taken him with her.

Troubled people lived in the Endicott house, but a feeling of ‘home’ drifted through the rooms. Rick yearned to belong to that kind of house. How lucky Lori had been to have lived there!

Hal drove a lap around town, then swung onto the highway. No one was in sight. In a few minutes, he headed back into town and down a nearly deserted Main Street.

Hal stopped at the City Hall that housed the Police Department and the volunteer firemen’s new fire engine. He nodded for Rick to follow.

Inside the small police station stood two desks, several chairs, and a filing cabinet. In back, four empty cells awaited the Saturday night drunks.

Helen Adams, the night dispatcher, smiled and waved from her tiny cubicle. She knitted a brightly colored afghan as she sat in front of the telephone and two-way radio.

“Evening, Helen. Evening, George.”

George looked up from his desk. “Hi, Hal. Rick. It’s so quiet out, I decided to catch up on my paperwork. After that trip to Summerville and being on watch tonight, I intend to sleep late tomorrow. I’m sure the Lord will understand if I miss church, but I’m not sure if Lucy will.”

Hal piled down in his chair and pulled off his hat. “Yeah, I expect it’ll be past two before everybody gets back from Rock View and settled down. The First Day of Autumn Carnival happens only once a year, so I guess we can’t complain any. Maynard and Curly can keep the few citizens left in town from getting unruly while we take a few minutes to rest up.” He picked up a folio of papers, then seemed to remember Rick standing near the door. “Find something to do, kid. There’s some magazines on the table.” He dismissed Rick with a wave of his hand and started reading reports.

“How are you doing, Rick?” George called warmly.

Rick smiled and nodded, but didn’t answer. He saw that George was busy and surmised that Hal wouldn’t like a lot of loud chatter going on while he was trying to work.

Rick sat down and glanced at the pile of magazines. There were a LIFE, two LOOKs, and several FIELD AND STREAMs. None of them interested him. He wandered toward the front of the station and stopped in front of Helen’s cubicle.

Helen looked up and smiled pleasantly. She was a handsome woman in her mid-thirties with a friendly, open face. “Hello. You’re Rick Medina, aren’t you? I’m Helen Adams.”

Rick glanced back toward George. “His daughter?”

“No, his daughter-in-law. My husband Jim drives the wrecker and owns a garage, so the Adams family pretty much runs this town.”

“I’ve seen Jim at a couple of wrecks. There’s a Terry Adams down in Junior High. Is he your son?”

“Yes. And we have another son, Mike, in fourth grade. Excuse me.” She touched her earphones. “Sheriff’s office. Just a moment, please.” She pressed a button, and Hal answered his ringing phone. Helen looked back at Rick. “I remember your mother, but she probably wouldn’t remember me. She was about five years ahead of me in school. My name was Donalson then.”

“She never talked about her school friends very much. I think she spent most of her after-school hours working in a diner, instead of running around with the kids.”

“She did. I thought she was a pretty smart cookie to have a job and be saving money. Not many teenagers are that self-sufficient. Then she met your dad. He was on the construction gang paving the highway out of town, and he ate at the diner a lot. After your mom got out of high school, she married him. They stayed around here for awhile. Then, about the time I graduated from high school, they moved to California. I think you were just a baby then. Anyway, I didn’t hear about her until a few months ago when you and your folks moved back here. I expect this town’s a lot different from where you grew up in California, isn’t it?”

Rick shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, the people are about the same, just a lot fewer of them.”

“I thought they’d be friendlier here. Did you live near the orange groves and palm trees? Did you ever get to see any movie stars?” Her eyes shone with the interest of a repressed traveler.

“We lived in San Bernardino, so I saw all those things except the movie stars. Actors never came into the factory section of town.” He saw Hal eyeing him. “I’d better let you get back to work, Mrs. Adams.”

She smiled warmly. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Rick. Come over to the house sometime. I want to hear more about California. I’ve got some old annuals with your mom’s picture in them. You’re welcome to look at them anytime. And my name is Helen.”

He smiled shyly. “Thank you, Helen. I will.”

Rick found his way back to the pile of magazines. He picked up a FIELD AND STREAM and started thumbing through it. 

Rick was halfway through an article on fly casting for rainbow trout when Helen left her cubicle.

“Hal, Boyd Lindsay just called from the Lucky Lady Tavern. Several guys are getting unruly and Boyd thinks a fight’s brewing.”

Hal grabbed his hat. “Call Maynard and Curly. Come on, George.”

Rick followed them out and crawled in with Hal. George took his own squad car.

All seemed quiet outside the tavern as they stood under the gaudy neon light.

“You stay out here, kid,” Hal ordered as he opened the swinging door. He and George disappeared inside.

But Rick didn’t obey. He’d seen his father’s old green Ford parked down the street and figured Bert was probably in the middle of the barroom trouble.

Rick slipped inside the door and let his eyes grow accustomed to the dim lights. At the far end of the bar, Hal and George were talking with three men. One of them was Bert Medina.

Bert was drunk. His heavy lidded eyes drooped, and he had trouble forming words with his loose lips. Rick couldn’t hear what was being said, but he noticed that the other patrons had stopped drinking to watch the discussion. Boyd Lindsay wiped the damp bar and listened carefully.

Rick edged closer.

Bert Medina straightened. Even on shaky legs, he stood nearly a foot taller than the rotund Hal. “I don’t have to do what you say, Bull! You’ve already messed up my kid, you son of a….”

Hal grabbed Bert’s collar and shoved Bert against the bar. “That’s enough of that kind of talk, Medina!”

Bert stumbled and clawed at a stool. Too drunk to fight, he leaned his head down and tried to clear it.

“I’ll help you, Bert!” one of the other two drunks yelled and dove for Hal’s back.

Using his elbow as a wedge, Hal loosened the second man’s hold and wrestled away from him. In the scuffle, Hal’s Stetson spun to the floor. The drunk grunted in pain as Hal put an arm lock on him and handcuffed him.

George cuffed the third man who’d given no resistance.

Rick saw the raised beer bottle first. Bert had it aimed for Hal’s bare head.

“Dad! No!” Rick grabbed Bert’s upraised hand. “Don’t!”

Bert grappled with Rick, then backhanded him in the mouth. The blow flattened Rick and sent him sliding across the polished wood floor to crash into an empty chair and upset it.

Hal pinned Bert’s arm behind his back and forced his belly into the bar, knocking the wind out of him. “Stand still!” Hal ordered savagely as Bert fought for breath. He handcuffed Bert’s hands behind his back and spun him around. “You’re under arrest for disorderly conduct! And if that kid’s hurt, it’ll be assault!”

Bert wove on unsteady feet and tried to focus his bleary eyes on Hal. “I got a right to hit my own kid!”

Hal grabbed a handful of Bert’s shirt. “No, you don’t! You don’t have the ‘right’ to touch anybody! And I better not hear about you hitting your son again, or you’ll have the Law all over you!”

Then Maynard Lipps was pulling Bert out of Hal’s grasp. “I’ll take him, Hal.” He gave his boss a funny look.

George dragged Rick from the tangle of chair legs and helped him to his feet. Rick stood weaving, one hand grasping the bar and the other one holding his mouth.

Hal frowned. “How is he?”

“I don’t know. He won’t let me look.”

Hal grabbed Rick’s head and forced it back. “Open your mouth, damn it! Let me see!” He roughly twisted Rick’s head from side to side as he inspected the bleeding cheek. He paid no attention to the tears of pain glistening in Rick’s eyes.

Abruptly, Hal released Rick’s head. “You’ll live. You just got the inside cut a little. Go wash your mouth out in the restroom. George, get those guys out of here! I don’t want to see them when I get on the street.”

“Maynard, you and Curly bundle those guys into my car. I want to talk to Hal a minute.” He pulled Hal aside. “Weren’t you a little rough on old man Medina?”

“He deserves it! Nobody hits a kid while I’m around!”

“What are you so mad about?”

Hal fumed and slapped the bar. “That kid wasn’t even suppose to be in here! I told him to stay outside!”

“He sure saved your bacon, though. Couldn’t you be a little gentler with him? His mouth hurts.”

“It’ll toughen him up. Besides, he was just trying to keep his old man from getting into anymore trouble than he’s already in.”

“I don’t know about that, Hal. Rick’s probably scared of his father’s fists. Medina’s pretty big, and I bet he’s mean. It probably took a lot of guts for Rick to jump in there and help you.” George straightened. “Here he comes back. How’s your mouth feeling now, son?”

Rick nodded, but he looked like he was in pain.

“Here. Give me that,” Hal grumbled as he grabbed the bar rag out of Boyd’s hands. He picked up several empty glasses and dumped their ice cubes into the rag. He started to shove it against Rick’s swelling face, glanced at George, and handed the makeshift icepack to Rick. “Here. This should help.”

Rick gently laid the ice on his cheek. He gasped slightly and blinked.

“Take those guys down to the station, George, and hold them overnight. D.L. Farley will have to see Medina on Monday. I’m going to take a turn around town and make sure everything’s quiet. Come on, kid.”

Rick nursed his throbbing cheek as Hal cruised through the quiet streets. Most of the houses were dark.

“Looks like everyone’s in Rock View. Even Doc Murphy’s gone,” Hal noted as he drove past the doctor’s new ranch style home.

A few minutes later, the squad car stopped. Rick looked up and saw that they had parked in the Endicott’s driveway.

“I forgot my thermos of coffee. You might as well come on in, too. I’m going to be here a few minutes.”

Rick hoisted himself out of the car and followed Hal.

Bertha stepped into the kitchen. “I thought I heard someone out here. What are you doing back so early?”

Hal poured coffee from his thermos into a cup. “I forgot this. And I came by to see how Margo is.”

Bertha stopped looked puzzled at the cup of coffee and became the efficient nurse. “She’s all right now. I gave her the hypo, and she went right to sleep.”

“Good. I want to see her before I leave.” He waved his thumb toward Rick. “Check him over, will you?”

Bertha hadn’t noticed anything wrong with Rick as he stood in the shadows near the back door, but she saw his pale and swollen face as he stepped into the light.

“What happened to him?”

“He got busted in the mouth.”

Bertha whirled on Hal. “You didn’t!”

“No, I didn’t,” he answered indignantly. “His old man hit him. We were down at the tavern and….”

“The tavern?! The Lucky Lady?! What were you doing with this child in that hole?!”

“George and I were answering a disturbance call. I told the kid to stay outside, but he didn’t listen and got right in the middle of the fight. He stopped his old man from cracking me over the head with a beer bottle. Saved Medina from a whole list of charges, from assaulting me to interfering with a police officer in the performance of his duty.”

“Sounds like he might’ve also saved one big headache for the police officer.”

“Well, yeah, that, too,” Hal conceded.

“I’m sure that Rick is overwhelmed by your gratitude. Here, young man, let me see inside your mouth.”

Rick shrank away from her touch.

“I know it hurts, son. I’ll try to be real careful.” Her big hands fluttered softly to his face.

As Bertha examined the cut in his mouth, Rick rolled his eyes toward Hal. Bertha was gentle, and Hal wasn’t when he could’ve been. He’d been too mad at Rick.

Hal saw the resentful look on Rick’s face and busied himself with his coffee cup.

“The cut looks clean. And your improvised ice pack cut down on some of the swelling, but it’s getting pretty leaky. Sit down, and I’ll fix you a proper one.”

“He’ll be okay?”

“Sure. He’ll have a bruise and some soreness, but that will clear up in a few days.”

Hal pushed aside his chair. “I’ll go see Margo now.”

Bertha disappeared into a room leading off the kitchen, and Rick was left alone. A moment later, she reappeared.

“You can use my hot water bottle. I’ll fill it with ice.”

“Your room is back there?”

“That’s right. I’ve even got a bathroom. It’s real cozy.” She secured the top on the bottle. “There. Just keep that on your cheek awhile.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “It feels good. The sheriff’s ice pack felt good, too, but it was awfully drippy.”

With a knowing smile, she nodded. “I thought he might’ve been the one who fixed that up. He gets kind of basic when it comes to medicine. Guess he learned a lot of that from me.” She sat down beside him at the table. “I’m surprised he didn’t let Doc Murphy take a look at you.”

“We drove past Doc’s place, but Doc was gone.” Rick looked startled. “He was taking me to the doctor’s! He was scared I was hurt. That’s why he got so rough with me in the tavern. He wasn’t mad at me at all, just scared.”

She nodded wisely. “And you thought nothing scared him, didn’t you? He’s too smart to be that dumb.”

“I thought he was mad at me for going into the tavern.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, he’d be lying in the hospital right now with a concussion. He owes you a lot, and he knows it. But he doesn’t know how to say thanks, especially to you. And, I expect he feels a little ashamed of himself. If I know him, he lost his temper and forgot to be cautious. No, he wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. That’s why he brought you here. He wanted to make sure you hadn’t been seriously injured because of his foolishness. But he’d never admit it. Oh, no, not that one. He’d rather bite out his tongue than admit he was wrong. You see, he’s very proud. It takes a lot to humble him. In fact, he can be plain bullheaded.”

Rick frowned. “How can you be so sure about all of this?”

“Two reasons. First, he never comes back to check on his wife. Second, when he forgets his coffee, he rarely returns for it. It gives him an excuse to stop at the diner for a snack.” She leaned toward him in a conspiratorial manner. “He thinks I don’t know he sneaks food on the side, but something has to explain that expanding waistline.”

“But why did he go to so much trouble to get me here?”

“He didn’t want you to know he was concerned. You’re a ticklish problem to him, you know. He doesn’t quite know what to do with you. But he doesn’t hate you. He’s not that way,” she finished in a loud whisper because she could hear Hal’s footsteps. Then, in her normal voice, she said, “Be careful what you eat. Nothing sour like tomatoes, or the acid will bite your mouth.”

Hal pushed his way through the swinging door.

“How did you find Margo?”

“Okay,” he answered as he sifted through a cabinet drawer. “Where’s the top for this thermos?”

“I’ll get it for you.” She reached into the cabinet. “Here’s the top.”

“Thanks.”

“Will you be late?”

“Afraid so. The fair’s going to keep folks out until all hours. They probably won’t settle down until after two.”

“I’ll let you sleep late, then.”

“Hope you’ve talked that over with Randy. Last Sunday, he woke me up before seven.”

“I’ll try to catch the little scamp before he gets into your room. He’s pretty fast, though.”

“Well, I have to get back to the job. Come on, kid, we’ll check the highway first.”

“You’re surely not taking him back out on patrol!”

“Yes.”

“But he should be in bed, resting.”

“He can rest in the car.”

“But….”

“Look, Bertha, he is sentenced to spend from seven to ten-thirty of every Saturday night for twelve weeks with me on patrol. I intend to see that he serves every minute of his sentence. If he doesn’t, he goes to prison. Then some smart lawyer might get him off, in spite of what D.L. Farley says. That’s not going to happen if I can help it. This kid’s going to pay for what he did to Lori.”

“Well, Rick, I guess you better go with Simon Legree; or he’ll throw you in the pokey.”

As Rick struggled out of the kitchen chair, Hal left with his thermos of coffee.

“Are you still so sure he doesn’t hate me?” Rick whispered, and then stumbled after Hal.

Bertha raised her eyebrow, but didn’t answer.

 

They drove around for a couple of hours in the quiet town. Hal concentrated on his work. Rick’s mouth hurt and he was glad he didn’t have to talk. 

At ten-thirty, they stopped in front of Rick’s darkened house. Rick glanced at it; and then, gathering up the hot water bottle, he opened the car door.

Hal watched the boy shuffle toward the empty, blackened house, then crawled out of his squad. “Wait a minute!”

Rick turned, puzzled.

“I’ll make sure everything’s okay.” Hal opened the front door, flicked on the light switch, and then seemed to forget about the house. “Look, ah,” he mumbled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m glad you went in the tavern tonight. I’m glad you stopped your old man from busting me over the head. I appreciate it.” He squinted at Rick in the semidarkness.

Rick remembered what Bertha had said about Hal’s difficulty in thanking anybody, especially him. And Rick felt no compulsion to answer with bitter sarcasm. Besides, the sheriff seemed willing to acknowledge Rick’s help. Hal might even be easier to get along with if Rick didn’t smart off.

“That’s all right. Glad I could help.”

“Listen, will you be okay here?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, by yourself?”

“I’m used to staying by myself.”

“Call if you need anything. Okay?”

Rick looked at Hal oddly. “Okay.”

Hal wasn’t convinced, but he left. Rick was more puzzled than ever.

 

After Sunday dinner, Hal drove to the jail to do some paperwork on Bert Medina. D.L. Farley would need the report tomorrow. Through the door leading to the cell block, Hal could see Bert, now sober and remorseful, sitting quietly on his bunk staring at the floor.

The front door opened and Rick walked in.

“What do you want?” Hal asked in flat tones, trying to hide his simmering disgust against Bert.

“Can I see my dad?”

Even after….! Hal motioned toward the cell. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Hello, Dad.”

Bert looked up, and a broad smile wreathed his bruised face. “Rick!” He crossed to the cell door. “How are you, son? Gee, I’m glad you came to see me. I got drunk again, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to break my promise. But I got to feeling bad, thinking about your mother leaving us and about my injury. You’ll have to be patient with me, honey.”

Rick bit his lips together and winced at the pain. “I will, Dad.”

Bert had seen Rick wince, then spotted the discoloration on Rick’s face. “I did that to you, didn’t I? I’m sorry, son. I’m real sorry.”

“I know.”

“If something bad ever happened to you, boy, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re all I got left.”

Rick swallowed hard.

“No wonder the sheriff got mad at me. I’m sure glad he stopped me from hurting you anymore, and I’m glad you stopped me from hurting him. I’d be in a lot of trouble now if you hadn’t.”

“Do you want me to be at the hearing tomorrow?”

“No, you get your schooling. That’s important to both of us. I’ll know you’re thinking of me, though.”

“Can I get you anything? Is there anything you need?”

Bert shook his head. “The only thing I need is you, son. I’ve still got you, don’t I?”

Rick looked at him with saddened eyes and nodded. He reached out and touched one of Bert’s hands grasping the iron bars. It was the hand that had struck him.

Bert’s other hand covered Rick’s and tightened. Bert’s eyes burned into Rick’s. “It’s just me and you, son. We don’t need anybody else. Never forget that.”

When Rick left the jail a few moments later, he glanced back at the sheriff. Hal seemed irritated about something.


	7. Dodie and Randy

“Come on in,” Bertha invited Rick that Monday after school. “I thought it was some salesman. Most people come to the backdoor.”

“I brought back your hot water bottle, Bertha. Thanks for letting me use it.”

“Come out into the kitchen and have some milk and cookies.”

Rick shook his head. “No, thanks.” His eyes darted down the street. “I have to be leaving.”

She raised an eyebrow at his furtive glances. “Too bad. The kids are outside playing in back. I pretty well have the house to myself, until six when Hal gets home.”

Rick noticeably relaxed.

“How’s your mouth today?”

“It doesn’t hurt very much, thank you.”

“I don’t even see a bruise. You must heal fast. I’m surprised that there’s no discoloration.”

Rick grinned shyly. “Don’t tell anyone, but I dug out some of my mom’s old pancake makeup and put it on my face.”

She nodded her approval. “Now, that’s using the old noggin. You did a pretty good job of disguising yourself. Are you still by yourself over at your house?”

Rick nodded. “My dad saw Judge Farley today. He sure is lenient. Dad gets to come home tomorrow. They decided not to hold him for trial since he didn’t hit the sheriff.”

“Is your father mad at you?”

“I don’t think so. After he sobered up, he was glad I stopped him. He’s even sorry he hit me.”

“Then everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. Just fine.”

“Well, I hope so. I’d hate to see you get banged up anymore. I’d think he’d be ashamed of himself.”

“Oh, he always is, when he sobers up.”

“You mean, this has happened before?!”

“Not much.” Rick tried to correct himself and made things worse. “Mostly he hit my mom. I mean….”

“Poor woman!”

“I think that’s why she left him.”

“No wonder! Well, you watch yourself around him. And if you get in trouble, come over here. I used to wrestle male patients, and I bet I could handle one irate drunk.”

Rick’s eyes danced merrily. “I bet you could, too.”

Her head bobbed. “Of course, I could!”

“Ah, you say the kids are outside? Could I play with Randy awhile? I mean, would it be all right?”

Bertha thought it was an odd request. “I see no reason why you can’t. In fact, he’ll be tickled pink to see you again. You made quite a hit with him the other night.”

“Really?” Rick seemed pleased. “I liked him a lot, too. He’s one of the few persons in town who doesn’t look at me like I’m poison. Sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe I’m too defensive.”

“And maybe you’re just poison, boy. This town loved Lori Endicott. It’ll take time before any of us can forget what happened to her.”

Rick smirked. “So, you’re going to be against me, too?”

“I’m keeping an open mind about you. If you’re any good, you’ll soon prove it. And if you aren’t, you’ll prove that, too. Either way, Lori’s death won’t have anything to do with what I decide. And don’t go judging me by what you think the whole town thinks. That’s hardly fair to me, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe you are too defensive. Loosen up. Let people be friends with you if they want. You might be surprised.”

“Well, at least it sounds like I’ve got an even chance with you. Thanks again for the use of the hot water bottle.”

“Anytime. But I hope you don’t have to use it anymore.”

“Me, neither.”

“Take care of yourself. And come visit me again.”

“I will.” He disappeared.

Strange boy, Bertha thought. Shy, considerate, and mannerly, he could almost charm a person into forgetting his reputation. And for one so young, he’d certainly bitten off man-sized trouble from two burly men: his father and Hal Endicott.

Rick found Gwen sitting at the picnic table in the backyard. She seemed surprised to see him.

“Won’t you sit down? I’m watching Randy while he plays. Dodie is supposed to, but sometimes she forgets. She’s only eight, so I guess she has the right to forget once in awhile.”

He pointed at the book in front of her. “What are you reading?”

“World history. I don’t understand it much, though.”

“I know what you mean. I’m taking American history myself. It makes a little more sense. At least I’ve heard about some of the people and towns. But I’d rather be in shop class.”

“I like home ec. Cooking and sewing are more fun than reading about a lot of dead people.”

Rick looked around the yard. “Where’s Randy?”

“He was here a moment ago. Probably went over to see the Benson’s water spaniel. He’s crazy about that dog. Randy! Look who’s here! Randy! Oh, here he comes now.”

Randy toddled around the spirea bush and gurgled when he saw Rick. He ran forward on uncertain legs.

“He remembers you, all right.”

Randy grabbed Rick’s knee and grinned happily up at him.

“Hi, hot shot. Would you like to play with me?”

“Play!” Randy repeated.

“Okay, let’s get down on the ground like this. Now, you lie on your back.”

“Is the ground too cold, Rick?”

“Not today, Gwen. I want you to watch us. You can do this inside. All right, Randy, put your legs up. Now, I’m going to put my hands on the bottom of your shoes. You push as hard as you can. That’s it. Try to move my hands. That’s good. Try again. I know it’s hard to do because your legs aren’t very strong. But we’re going to build up those muscles. Push hard this time. Try to kick me. Try to knock me over.”

The little boy’s legs barely moved, but he was trying.

“That’s amazing,” Gwen said as she watched them. “We’ve tried to get him to exercise, but he wouldn’t do it.”

“It’s just a game, isn’t it, little guy? This isn’t something we have to do. This is fun, isn’t it? Now, try this.” Rick rolled on his back and pumped an imaginary bicycle. Randy kicked his feet around. “Point your toes! That’s good! That’s good! Keep it up!”

In the next half-hour, Rick put Randy through a series of leg strengthening exercises from stomping to running to kicking the air. Finally, Rick sat down at the table.

“More, Rick!”

“I can’t right now, hot shot. I’m exhausted. I feel like I‘m out for football practice.”

“More!”

“Randy, leave Rick alone.”

Randy looked deflated.

“How about if I come back tomorrow, and we do the same things all over again?”

The little boy brightened.

“Okay, but it’s our secret. Yours and mine and Gwen’s.”

Randy held his finger up to his mouth and blew. “S-h-h!”

 

Later, Randy was sitting on Rick’s lap when Dodie marched into the backyard. She was dressed in a Brownie Scout uniform.

“Hi, small fry,” Rick greeted her. “Enjoy your meeting?”

“What are you doing in my yard?”

“I borrowed something from Bertha, and I brought it back.”

“Why is my little brother sitting on your lap?”

“I guess he likes it up here.”

“He’s not old enough to know you’ll hurt him. Put him down. Right now!”

“I’m not hurting him. He can get down anytime he likes.”

Dodie grabbed Randy’s arm. “Get down!”

Randy squealed and refused to move.

“Randy! Get down!”

“I think he wants to stay with me, Dodie. Why don’t you change your clothes, and we’ll all play some games?”

“I wouldn’t want to play with you.”

Rick shrugged. “Too bad. Randy, Gwen, and I’ll have a lot of fun without you, but we wish you’d make it a foursome. Anytime you want to join us, you can.”

Dodie huffed into the house.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll tell Uncle Hal?”

“She’s no tattletale. She wants to play with us, too, but thinks she shouldn’t. It’ll take some time, but she’ll eventually come around.”

Randy slipped off his lap.

“Dodie coming around?” Gwen asked. “Not her. She’s antisocial.”

“She’s bossy and spoiled and has a chip on her shoulder. But she’s also scared and lonely and doesn’t know how to ask for help. Her world’s been turned inside out. Her sister’s dead and her mother’s ill. It’s a lot for someone her age to have to understand.” He watched Randy chasing a leaf.

“You’re pretty perceptive.”

Rick frowned at her. “Me? I don’t even know what that words means.”

“It means you can quickly size up a person’s true feelings and understand why he acts the way he does.”

“It might be said simpler than that. I hurt, therefore I understand pain. I cry, therefore I understand sorrow. I hurt and I cry, because I’ve known love.”

“That’s beautiful!”

“Lori told me those lines once. I think she got them out of a book somewhere.”

“She liked to read poetry. I thought she did that just to impress her English teacher. But after hearing that little quotation, maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was a side to Lori I didn’t know. I wish I had. Maybe I would’ve liked her more than I did.”

“She was sensitive. She tried to hide it, but it was showing up more and more. Not many people saw it, but I did. That’s one of the reasons I loved her. She had a feeling for the order and the oneness of all life.”

“That fits in with her ambition. Lori was in a lot of plays and dramatics. When she got out of school, she wanted to be an actress. That’s what Aunt Margo would’ve been if she hadn’t married Uncle Hal. Sometimes, I think she shoved her dreams down Lori’s throat so that Lori thought they were her own.”

“Lori never would’ve married a hometown boy and settled down here, would she?”

“I doubt it. She wanted to go to Broadway or Hollywood.”

“That’s what I figured.“ Rick glanced at the sun low in the sky. “Hey, it’s getting late. What time is it, anyway?”

Gwen looked at her watch. “Quarter to six.”

“I better be going then. See you tomorrow.”

“Didn’t you want to see Uncle Hal? He’ll be home any minute now.”

Rick held up his hands. “No, thanks! Once a week on Saturday nights is enough for me. Remember, Randy, it’s our secret. S-h-h!”

Rick winked at Gwen with his finger still pressed against his lips, and Gwen at last understood. He wanted to help Randy without Hal’s knowledge!

Rick had them all sworn to secrecy, even Dodie. He’d dared her to keep quiet. And Dodie was taking the dare because she was fascinated with him. She couldn’t boss him around, or intimidate him, or get his attention. She wasn’t about to let her father take Rick away before she had a chance to tear him down and make him surrender.

Gwen bet that Rick had Bertha won over to him, too.

 

On Tuesday afternoon after school, Gwen and Bertha examined the flowerbed near the kitchen door.

“You might as well pick any of these flowers you want, Gwen. As chilly as the nights have been lately, we’re going to get an early frost.”

“I sure hate to think of winter coming already.”

“It won’t. We’ll have lots of warm days yet. This cold snap won’t last, but it’ll take the flowers with it.”

“Look. Here comes Rick.”

He crossed the backyard and shyly handed a red flower to Bertha.

“What’s that?”

“A rose.”

“I know it’s a rose! What’s it for?”

“It’s for you. I found it on the bush in our yard. It looks like the last one for this season.”

“And why did you bring it to me?”

“I thought you’d like it. And I wanted to say thanks for what you told me yesterday. I’ve thought it over, and you’re right. George Adams told me the same thing, so it must be true, at that.”

“It’s true.”

Gwen grinned. “Now you’ve got me curious, you two!”

Bertha looked over the top of her rose. “Cold doors turn away warm hearts.”

Gwen looked puzzled.

Bertha tried again. “To have a friend, you have to be one.”

“Oh, that’s why you took a shine to me and Randy and Dodie yesterday. And brought a rose to Bertha today.”

Embarrassed, Rick looked around. “Where’s Randy?”

“Humph!” Bertha studied the red rose. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to soft-soap me? Don’t answer that! Hmm. Nobody’s ever brought me roses. I kind of like the idea.” She marched toward the kitchen door with her flower. “I’ll tell Randy that you’re here. He’s watching TV with Dodie.”

Gwen looked amazed. “How did you figure she’d like the last rose of summer?! Are you really trying to be friends with us?”

“She’s right. I am trying to soft-soap her.”

“I don’t believe that! I think you like her.”

“And I think you’re sentimental. Besides, I just wanted to give her something. I thought she needed a flower.”

Gwen tilted her head. “What about me? I like roses, too.”

“If there’d been three, the third would’ve been yours.”

“The third? Who’d get the second one?”

“Dodie. But she wouldn’t appreciate a gift from me right now, I’m afraid.”

“And you think I wouldn’t, either?”

“Oh, you’d appreciate it, alright. But you really don’t need it.”

Gwen’s eyes snapped. “And why wouldn’t I need the reassurance of a friendly gift?”

“Because you’re one of the strongest persons I know. You hide your strength, but it’s there. Otherwise, you couldn’t have beaten your problems as well as you have.”  
Gwen’s smile trembled. “Thank you for my rose, Rick. That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

“If I could have, I would’ve brought you a honeysuckle rose. It’s the prettiest.”

“A honeysuckle rose? That’s what you called your car, wasn’t it? How come?”

“There was a honeysuckle bush at Grandpa’s house. When my mother was a little girl, she called the blossoms roses. She still does, as far as I know.”

“That’s lovely. Oh, here’s Randy now!”

 

The next three afternoons after school, Rick appeared in the Endicott’s backyard. He ran and played with Randy and exercised the little boy’s legs. He showed Gwen so she could exercise with Randy, too.

“Is that good for Randy?” Dodie asked on Wednesday.

Bertha stopped her biscuit mixing and looked out of the kitchen window, too. “It can’t hurt him.” She glanced sideways at the pout on Dodie’s face. “They seem to be having fun. Why don’t you go out and join them?”

Dodie pushed away from the window. “I don’t want to.”

“You should get some fresh air yourself. If you don’t want to play with them, you could go out in the front yard.”

“Oh, alright,” Dodie muttered.

She dug her jump rope out of her toy box and stamped outside. Grimly, she set her teeth in determination. But her hopping wasn’t very enthusiastic.

What was Rick Medina doing now? Randy shouldn’t….

Dodie tripped and nearly fell on the cement. The jump rope popped the sidewalk and lay coiled in agonized twists. She didn’t like this silly, old game, anyway!

But she couldn’t play with THEM.

Trailing the rope in her hand, she scuffed her toes on the tufts of dead grass in the cracks of the broken cement. She wished those ants she was severing were Rick Medina. To see him squirm and….

A peal of laughter snapped her head to attention. Their excited yells angered Dodie. She’d stop that racket! She threw her rope and stormed around the house.

Randy and Rick tugged on a rope of their own, and Gwen grasped the other end. She was clearly losing the match.

Rick stopped Dodie. “Hey! Come help Gwen! She’s no competition for me and Randy!”

Dodie didn’t move.

“Help me, Dodie! They said boys were better than girls. We can’t let them think they’re right, can we?”

“Of course, we’re right!” Rick yelled. “And Dodie agrees with us. See? She’s not even going to try to beat us.”

Dodie ran to the rope and grabbed a section in front of Gwen. The spirit of competition gleamed in her eyes.

The four seesawed across the yard. First the boys, then the girls were winning. But the combined tugging of two was too much for Rick, and he allowed himself to be yanked forward. As he fell to the ground, he dove sideways so he wouldn’t land on Randy.

Grinning, Rick sat up. Loose strands of grass clung to his jeans and jacket. He braced himself as Randy hurtled straight at him. Rick caught him, laughed, and rolled backwards.

Dodie watched the melee, then jumped on Rick, too. He grabbed both youngsters and rolled with them in the grass. Over and over they turned in a confusion of bodies and laughter.

Rick sat up, still grinning. Randy tugged on his arm for more play. Dodie sat on her knees beside them.

“Girls are just as good as boys. Say it!”

“Girls are just as good as boys,” Rick repeated. He gave her a devilish look. “Sometimes.”

“Oh, you….!” Dodie leaped at Rick, and the three bodies tumbled again.

When they stopped rolling this time, Rick was holding Dodie in his arms. His warm eyes flicked over her defiant face. “Let’s call it a draw, small fry,” he said softly.

She studied his sincere face. “Okay.” She pulled out of his embrace, stood, and brushed grass off her clothing.

“Let’s play catch,” Rick suggested.

Rick, Gwen, and Dodie tossed the ball between them while Randy ran from one to the other trying to grab it. Occasionally, Rick would have Randy help him throw and catch so Randy could rest. They played the game until Rick decided to leave.

“See you,” he said with a wave of his hand and was gone.

Gwen and Dodie sat down at the picnic table to rest as Randy continued to chase the rubber ball around the yard.

“I’m glad you decided to play with us, Dodie. We all had more fun.”

“Sure, you did,” she answered sullenly.

“No, I mean it. Haven’t you ever heard, the more the merrier? Rick’s a lot of fun.”

“He thinks he’s so smart! I’ll trip him up yet.”

“You mean you don’t want Rick to be your friend?”

“Why should I? He killed my sister.”

“Lori’s death was an accident, Dodie. It’s in the past. What counts is today. Rick needs friends. He wants you to be his friend. I think he’s a nice person. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, do you?”

“But Pops doesn’t like him!”

“That’s between them. Just because they don’t get along with each other doesn’t mean we can’t like both of them. We don’t have to choose.”

“Like I don’t have to choose between my mama and daddy?”

“Same difference. You love them both. You don’t have to choose between them.”

“Don’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

Dodie trembled. “When Mama hollers at Pops, I want to run and hide. I think I’ll have to choose sides, and I can’t do that.”

Sympathy welled inside Gwen, leaving only warmth and softness for her sassy, belligerent cousin. “Oh, Dodie, neither of them would want you to do that. You’re so young to have to understand so much.” She touched Dodie’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Dodie shrank from Gwen’s touch. Gwen drew back her hand as if she’d been slapped. Her eyes reflected the pain she’d felt when Lori had rejected her.

“I have to go find my jump rope,” Dodie muttered.

 

On Thursday, Rick walked Gwen home from school.

“Watch out for Dodie, Rick. She’s playing a cat-and-mouse game with you. She doesn’t know whether she should like you or not.”

“I know. But she’s curious about me.”

“Why are you trying to win her over? It can’t be her charming personality.”

“She isn’t the spoiled, little brat she pretends to be. I’d like to give her the courage to be herself. If she realizes that people like her for herself, maybe she won’t be such a little bully. Besides,” he said with a wistful smile, “I guess I’m curious about her, too.”

“She reminds you of Lori, doesn’t she?”

Rick’s smile saddened into hurt.

“I’m sorry. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

“I always will be,” he murmured. “Id do anything for her family.”

“Even to befriending her castoff cousin?”

“We’re two of a kind, you and me. Neither of us has the home we really want.”

Gwen looked disappointed. “I’m glad we’re getting our signals straight. I didn’t know if you wanted to be more than friends or not.”

“What else could we be? Oh, see what you mean. I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m not ready for anything else right now. It’ll take a long time before I can date another girl. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m still thinking about Lori. But I want to be your friend. Can’t we be friends? With no strings?”

Gwen sighed with relief, nodded, and smiled brightly. “No strings. Friend.”

Now, they could be together with no misunderstanding between them. Gwen liked Rick, but she didn’t want to date him. In fact, she was a little frightened of him. But at home, in her own backyard and playing with her young cousins, she forgot her fear and enjoyed his company. That was the only relationship she wanted with Rick Medina, and now she knew that was the only relationship he wanted with her. Still, it was a disappointment. Rick was attractive in a romantic, offbeat way. Gwen was certain it was the same attraction Lori had admired in him.

Randy, eager to play, was waiting for them in the backyard. Rick barely had time to lay down his books.

Later, while they were taking a much needed rest break, Dodie joined them at the picnic table.

“Why do you spend so much time over here?” she demanded.

“Dodie!”

“That’s alright, Gwen. It’s a fair question.”

“Don’t you have a home to go to? Won’t your mama wonder where you are?”

“I live in a house about five blocks from here. My mother doesn’t live there anymore, just me and my dad.”

“But your daddy surely wonders! Pops always wants to know where I’m going, and how long I’ll be gone.”

“My father doesn’t mind where I go.”

“Is that because he’s always getting drunk and fighting?”

Rick bowed his head.

“Dodie!”

“I heard it at school, Gwen.” She leveled her gaze at Rick. “Is it true?”

“He drinks and fights,” Rick mumbled.

“Does he ever get mad at you when he’s drinking?”

“I try to stay out of his way.”

“Does he ever hit you? Like he did Saturday night in the tavern?”

Rick squirmed and bit his lips. “Sometimes.”

Dodie digested his information, and her voice lost its sharpness. “Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

Rick lifted his eyes from the ground and tried to concentrate on his answer. “I have a brother named Charles, but we call his Casey. He’s five years older than me and ins in the Navy in Virginia. I haven’t seen him in over a year. He stopped writing home when Mom left.”

Sympathy shone on Dodie’s face, but her eyes hardened again. “You’re trying to make me feel sorry for you!”

The challenge rallied Rick. “I am not. I told you the truth. And I like being at your home. There’s people here who are nice to me and make me feel good.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t want pity, Dodie, just your friendship. If I found less, I’d leave here in a moment and never come back.”

Dodie stared at him, and then walked around the corner of the house.

“You shouldn’t have told her those things, Rick. She might have bad dreams about them.”

“She can handle it. She’s a tough kid. I answered her questions as honestly as I could. She deserves the truth. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for her benefit.”

Gwen’s brave smile quivered. “Then you should’ve for mine. I didn’t realize your home life was that depressing or that dangerous. I’m shocked. Would your father really hurt you?”

Rick squinted at the gathering clouds. “Looks like rain.” He dug at a scraped place on his finger. “I know how to handle him. The trick is not to get him mad. If he ever really got violent, though, I don’t know if I could get out of his way.”

“Oh, Rick! Couldn’t you leave him? Couldn’t you live somewhere else?”

“He’s my natural parent, and the law says he owns me.”

“Uncle Hal’s your guardian. Can’t you ask him for help?”

“Your uncle’s the Law. He goes by what’s legally right, and that means I have to stay with my father.”

“We got back to Square One awfully fast, didn’t we?”

He smiled bitterly. “So fast it makes you dizzy.”

Dodie reappeared at the corner of the house and solemnly walked to Rick’s side. “I don’t care if you come over here.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m, ah, sorry, ah, that I asked you all those questions about your father and made you feel bad.”

“It’s forgotten.”

“I don’t mind if you play with Randy, either.”

“I’m glad.”

“Could I play, too?”

“Sure. Where’s the ball we play catch with?”

As Dodie ran to find the ball, Rick winked at Gwen.

“That’s amazing, Rick. I’ve never heard her apologize for anything.”

“Maybe that’s because nobody’s ever held her accountable for her actions. I will. She’s no child, and I’ll never treat her like one.”

“You know, you might just be the first person she lets get by with that.”

Rick crossed his fingers and held his breath.

Gwen laughed warmly, and then was pressed into a catch game.

When it was nearly six o’clock, Rick turned to leave.

“Won’t you stay for supper?” Dodie asked. “We’re having Mexican chili. Bertha says it’d melt a glacier.”

“It sounds interesting. But, no thanks, small fry. I better go on home now. I can’t stay.”

“Why not?! Your daddy wouldn’t care. You said so yourself. He doesn’t pay any attention to your comings and goings.”

“That’s true, Dodie. He wouldn’t care. But YOUR dad, well, he might not like to see me eating at his table.”

“Oh. I forgot.”

“See you tomorrow, small fry. Bye, princess,” he said to Gwen, and then patted Randy’s head. “Keep running, hot shot.”

Dodie watched Rick disappear between two garages. “Why does he call Randy ‘hot shot?’”

“Because he likes him. We give nicknames to people we like.”

Dodie’s eyes widened. “He calls me ‘small fry!’”

Gwen smiled. “That’s right.”

“I think if he liked us enough, he could eat with us.”

“He’d feel uncomfortable eating with your dad.”

“Maybe we could ask Pops if Rick could!”

“We better not. They both might get mad at us. What goes on between them is none of our business. It’s their private war. If we want to stay friendly with both of them, we have to stay out of their quarrel.”  
“Oh, shoot!”

“I couldn’t agree more, but that’s the way it is.” She waved her hand to Randy. “Come on! Let’s go see if the chili’s done!”

 

Dodie blew on her chili. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Pops.”

Hal scooped cottage cheese onto tomato slices on his plate. “Oh, yes, I do. A good stomachache.”

“I bet he’d like it.”

“Who?”

Gwen looked sharply at Dodie.

“Oh, a guy I know,” Dodie answered.

Hal grinned with tolerance. “Your new boyfriend, I expect.”

“You might say that.”

“How about these kids nowadays, Bertha? They sure start young, don’t they?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’d broken a couple of hearts by the time I was Dodie’s age.”

“Now, if you’d said you’d busted a couple of heads, I’d come closer to believing you.”

“Is that so? Well, let me tell you….”

Dodie rolled her eyes at Gwen. She loved to hear Bertha and her father arguing with each other.

 

Friday morning, it rained as the gathering clouds had promised the night before. By noon, the skies cleared. 

At ten minutes to four, Rick knocked on the Endicott’s backdoor. Bertha let him inside the kitchen.

“It’s too wet to go outside, but is Randy exercising?”

Bertha jerked her thumb toward the living room. “Can’t you hear the stomping? They’re drowning out the TV. I’m sure going to be glad when the ground dries, and your exercise class can move itself back outside again.”

“You don’t mind what I’m doing, do you?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’ll do any good?”

“I don’t know. Margo’s polio might not have bothered Randy at all. He just might have weak muscles.”

“I hope that’s all it is.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t seem right if he had to be crippled, too. He’s a nice little kid.”

“And the rest of us?”

Rick grinned shyly. “You’re kind of nice, too.”

The living room door swung open, and Gwen smiled warmly at him. “Why, hello, Rick! The kids will be glad to see you. They thought you wouldn’t come over because of the rain.”

“Shh! Don’t tell them I’m here. We’d have the living room torn up in five minutes, and then your uncle would know that something was going on.”

“Going to the game tonight?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator door.

He shrugged. “No, I don’t care very much for football.”

“I thought that’s how you won your athletic letter on your jacket.”

“No, it’s for track.”

“Track?” Gwen shut the frig door and set a carton of milk on the table. “Our school has a track team. Are you going out for it this spring?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“We need new talent. Our team hasn’t been the best.” She set out a plate of cookies. “Oh, I should warn you. The kids are coming in for a snack. If you don’t want them to see you….”

The warning came too late.

“Rick!” Randy squealed as he charged through the door.

Rick caught him and tossed him in the air.

“More! More!” the child begged.

“No more today. You have some cookies to eat, and I have to leave.”

“Stay!”

“I really have to leave, little guy.”

“Won’t you please stay, Rick? We’d really like you to.” Dodie tilted her head sideways and smiled sweetly at him.

Rick couldn’t resist her. He found himself nodding his head in agreement.

Bertha and Gwen exchanged looks. That Dodie was a charmer, already!

Randy made Rick sit beside him. Dodie sat across from him and kept giving Rick soft looks. Gwen and Bertha sat down and shared cookies and milk, too.

Rick felt very relaxed in the warm, cozy kitchen. He liked being with these people. They made him feel wanted.

Everyone knew it was a special party, but Dodie started feeling too expansive. Her dark eyes shone with pleasure. “I wish Pops was here. Then everything would be perfect.”

Rick seemed to freeze. A protective cloak fell around his shoulders, and everyone knew the party was over.

“I, I have to be going.” He pushed back his chair.

“Will I see you at the game?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t think so,” he muttered as he left.

The four at the table sat in silence. Bertha laid a half-eaten sugar cookie on her plate. No one else moved.

“I didn’t mean to chase him away.” 

“You didn’t chase him away, Dodie,” Bertha answered. “H did that all by himself.”

“We were having such a good time. He ate something with us. I just, forgot.”

“Seems the world would be a whole lot better off if a few other people would forget a few things,” Bertha said brusquely. “Well, this isn’t getting super ready. Gwen, you can help make the fish sauce. Dodie, you and Randy can go play in the living room.”

Dodie hung back. “Could I stay and watch you? I don’t feel like playing.”

“Sure you can. I’m not as entertaining as TV, though.”

“But you’re real!”

Bertha raised her eyebrows at Gwen.

“This fish is really good,” Hal remarked at supper. “Dodie, you’ve hardly touched a bite. Don’t you feel well?”

“Guess I’m just full of cookies,” she said with a sigh.


	8. Black Is Difficult To See At Night

With a golden smile, the sun awoke the world. Dodie seemed in better spirits as she bounced downstairs for the usual Saturday morning breakfast of French toast and sausage. Even Hal appeared in a light-hearted mood as he joked with his youngsters at the breakfast table.

Generally, Hal worked at his desk in the living room, but this morning he watched cartoons with the children. Bertha and Gwen could hear his deep laughter in the kitchen as they prepared potato soup and hot dogs for lunch.

At noon, the television watchers trooped to the table.

“I wonder what Rick does on Saturday,” Dodie said.

“Rick who?” Hal asked as he forked a hot dog.

Dodie saw Gwen shoot her a warning look. Too late, Dodie realized that her tongue had slipped again. She decided to play it straight. “Oh, you know. That boy that rides with you on Saturday nights.”

“I don’t wonder about him at all. What do you have to go on this hot dog, Bertha?”

“Mustard, catsup, and chili sauce.”

“Chili sauce?! Don’t you people ever get your fill of chili?”

Dodie and Gwen exchanged relieved expressions.

Dodie was thankful for the chili sauce discussion. From now on, she’d have to watch her tongue more closely.

 

Hal enjoyed a lazy afternoon of watching college football games and dozing on the sofa. By suppertime, he felt thoroughly refreshed and relaxed. Nothing was going to spoil this perfect day, not even the thought of spending the evening with Rick Median.

Once, he awoke to find himself alone and the TV blaring to an otherwise empty living room. He snapped off the set and stumbled sleepily into the kitchen where Bertha was setting the table for supper.

“Finally awake, Rip?”

Hal stretched and yawned. “Gosh, I’ve spent a day sleeping! Nobody even called me out on an emergency. Where did everyone go, anyway?”

“Outside. They got tired of your snoring.”

He pulled aside the curtain. “What are those kids doing out there? Looks like they’re stomping on the ground.”

“Just some game, most likely.”

“Now, they’re rolling on the ground! They’ll take cold.”

“No, they won’t. The ground’s still warm. Let them play, Hal. In a few weeks, it’ll be too cold for them to roll around like that.”

“Whatever you say. You’re the nurse. I’m just their father. What would I know? Except, I have to pay for the medicine if they get sick.”

“They’re not going to get sick, Father. Now, stop your worrying and go wash up for supper.”

“I hope it’s not more chili.”

“Meatloaf, green lima beans, and escalloped corn with apple crisp for dessert. Does that meet with your approval?”

The pleased grin on his face told her it did.

 

At seven, Rick knocked on the front door as Hal left by the back way.

“Am I late, Bertha?”

“Almost. Hal saw you coming and went through the garage to get the car warmed up.”

Gwen, Randy, and Dodie trooped into the living room and waved at Rick. He waved back and said, “Shh!” They all said, “Shh!” back to him.

“You better get on out there. He’s in a good mood, for a change. Oh. Here.” Bertha handed him a sack. “His coffee. He forgot it again. I stuck another plastic cup in there for you to use.” She gave him a sharp look. Since you’re a coffee drinker now.”

Rick’s head shot up to see if she was teasing. No softness showed in her hard, chiseled features. But Rick thought he saw the glimmer of mirth in her dark Indian eyes. He relaxed. A grin tugged at his lips and sparkled in his blue eyes. He liked Bertha. And as they stood looking at each other over the thermos of hot coffee, they became friends.

She hurried him toward the door. “Scoot, now! He’s got the car going. Don’t make him wait on you.”

“Remember, Randy: exercise!” Rick yelled from the door.

“Don’t worry!” Gwen called. “He will. We’ll all make sure of that.”

Puffs of white smoke swirled around the squad car rumbling in the driveway as Rick ran to it and opened the car door.

“Oh, here you are,” Hal said as he turned. “What do you have in the sack?”

“Your coffee. You forgot it again.”

“I’ve got a reason to forget it,” Hal said as he looked over his shoulder and backed into the street. “Bertha makes the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted. I’ve drunk gallons of it, though.” He glanced at the contented houses passing them in the twilight. “Cops can drink anything this side of crank case oil, and sometimes I swear her coffee is just that. Bertha is a good old gal when it comes to nursing and housekeeping, but she just can't make decent coffee. She brews it thick and strong, though, and it keeps me awake on nights when nothing much is going on. So I can’t complain much. I saw you drinking a cup of it last Saturday night. What did you think of it? I just might not appreciate good coffee.”

“It tasted okay to me, but….”

Hal negotiated a turn onto Main Street. “But, what?”

“I’d never tasted coffee before.”

Hal’s face relaxed into jovial glee. The smile made him look years younger. “That would sure be a joke on her.”

“I have a feeling she already knows it.”

Hal nodded sagely. “Probably so. There’s not much that old Indian scout misses.” He glanced at the empty sidewalks. “Not much going on tonight. I called in while I was waiting on you, and Helen said everything was quiet. Sounds like we’ll have good use for that coffee tonight, whether we like it or not.”

They cruised around the square and passed the drugstore with its usual cluster of teenage boys in front of it.

Hal glanced into his rear view mirror. “What did those guys holler at me?”

Rick studied the floor mat. “They weren’t hollering at you.”

“Then what was that all about?”

Rick’s face burned with humiliation. “They think it’s funny that I have to ride with you.”

“Do they give you static about it at school?”

“A little, but I don’t pay them much attention. If they give me anymore trouble, though, I’ll knock them flat.”

“No, you won’t.”

Rick looked at Hal. “Huh?”

“You’re not going to do any fighting.” Hal turned onto the highway. “You’re in enough trouble now.”

“But….”

“Don’t let a few snot-nosed kids get under your skin. Sure, you’ll have to fight if you’re backed into a corner, but don’t go asking for trouble. And that’s what you’ll have if you let them rile you up. Just stay, what is it you kids say now? Oh, yeah. Cool. Just stay cool.”

“All right,” Rick mumbled. “I’ll try.”

“That’s about as much as anybody can do.”

The radio crackled: “Base to Mobile One.”

Hal took the mike. “Mobile One here. Go ahead, Helen.”

“Car wreck involving one vehicle on Highway 10 out by Tom Johnson’s place. Sadie Sylvester hit one of Tom’s black Angus steers. Neither Sadie nor her passenger, Annabelle Pettigrew, is injured as far as Tom can determine.”

“10-4, Base. Send Jim out with his wrecker. Will advise at the scene if we need doctors or an ambulance. Mobile Two will stay in Beardsley. Mobile One clear.” Hal hung up the microphone and turned on his siren. “Sounds like your English teacher’s had some bad luck tonight. Wonder what those two old maids were doing out? They were both my schoolteachers, you know.”

“They were?” Rick grabbed for the dashboard as they dove into a sharp curve.

“Yep,” Hal replied as he concentrated on guiding the car through the curve. “Sadie was my fifth grade teacher. It was her first year out, and I think my class taught her more about kids that term than she ever learned in college. I don’t know how long Miss Pettigrew’s been teaching English. Seems like she’s been around since the year One.”

As the patrol car shot through the early evening countryside, Rick studied Hal out of the corner of his eyes. Here again was another Hal: amiable, even friendly, and interested in Rick’s problems with his fellow students. How different from what Rick thought he’d be!

When Hal pulled up to the wreck site, he said in awe, “Would you look at that!”

On the weedy shoulder, Tom Johnson and Sadie Sylvester hovered beside an old Plymouth sedan. The hooves and legs of a dead steer protruded from the car’s shattered windshield.

Tom ran up to the patrol car, and Hal rolled down his window. The young farmer was wild-eyed with excitement.

“What happened, Tom?”

Tom snuffled loudly, wiped his long nose with the back of his broad hand, and grinned as he bent his tall body to talk to Hal. “Howdy, Sheriff. I was just finishing up my chores when I heard a crash, and I knew right off what it had to be. And sure enough, Miss Sylvester got one of my steers. Prime eating beef, too.” He looked up at the cold twinkling of the stars. “Ain’t no moon up yet, neither. That’s probably why she clobbered him.”

“Are the women hurt?”

“Nah, but that steer’s sitting on Miss Pettigrew’s lap. And she’s covered with manure.” He smiled broadly, showing his boulder teeth. “Damnedest mess you’ve ever seen this side of the Chicago slaughter house. It’ll take her a week before she stops smelling like a cow lot, and that‘s only if you stay upwind of her.” 

Hal saw the twinkle in Tom’s eyes. “Miss Pettigrew was your English teacher, too, wasn’t she, Tom?”

“Yup.” Tom’s happy grin broadened. “It’s almost worth the loss of the steer. Kinda makes up for all those bad marks on my grade cards.”

Hal had to turn away so Tom wouldn’t see Hal’s own grin. But Rick saw it and fought hard to keep from laughing. They were three guys who’d all had a common experience with a tyrannical, nit-picking teacher. There was justice in the universe, after all. Sometimes, it just was a long time coming.

When Hal could look at Tom again with a straight face, he said, “You’ll have to come into town on Monday and fill out a report for me. You’re responsible for that steer being out on the road. You’ve had several warnings about your cattle being out, so now you’ll have to pay damages.”

“Anything you say, Sheriff. First thing Monday morning.”

“Make it the second thing, won’t you, Tom? The office doesn’t open until nine, and I know how early you farmers get up.”

Tom grinned and held the door open for Hal.

Hal and Rick ambled toward the wrecked automobile. Sadie Sylvester wrung her hands as they approached. Worry crossed her wrinkled face.

Hal tipped his hat. “Miss Sadie, are you alright?”

The frail, little woman nervously patted Hal’s hand. “Oh, yes, Hal. A little shaky, though.”

“Maybe Doc Murphy should check you over.”

“Well, it would be nice if he’d see Annabelle. We’ll go to his office after we freshen up.” In dismay, she looked at her trapped friend’s predicament. “As soon as you can get Annabelle out of there, that is.”

“Jim Adams is coming out with his wrecker. We’ll hoist the steer off your car, and then we can get Miss Pettigrew out.”

Sadie looked heartbroken. “Oh, my poor, lovely car!”

Hal smiled with tolerant sympathy. “I think you got your money’s worth out of it. How old was it, anyway? Fifteen years? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen! And it never gave me a moment’s trouble.”

“What happened here tonight?”

“Well, Annabelle and I had been to a teachers’ meeting over at Springfield. We had it on Saturday so we wouldn’t have to lose a day of school. And, oh, my! You should’ve heard those young teachers complaining about losing a weekend. Afterwards, we went over to the Starlight Club and had the most delightful salmon mousse! With asparagus tips! Delicious! But I’m getting away from my story. It was pretty late when we left the other girls at Springfield. They were from Chandler, and they were so much fun! They grow begonias, too, just as Annabelle and I do! And they’re coming to see us next month at Beardsley! Anyway, the sun had already set by the time we got back here. I didn’t see that steer until I was right on top of him. Black’s hard to see at night.”

“I know. Don’t worry about what happened. We’ll get the details ironed out Monday.” Hal leaned down to talk through the broken car window and curled his nose away from the stench. “How are you, Miss Pettigrew?”

“Get this beast off of me, Harold!”

“Harold?” Rick echoed at Hal’s elbow.

Hal acted like he paid no attention to him, but he knew that Rick had heard.

“I’ll move the steer as soon as I can, Miss Pettigrew. Are you hurt? Do you want me to send for Doc Murphy?”

“That won’t be necessary. But you can get rid of that young hoodlum!”

Hal looked around, puzzled, and then saw Rick beside him. “I guess she means you, kid. Go back to the car.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing wrong. I thought I’d help.”

“I know, kid, but….”

“Anything!” Miss Pettigrew shouted. “You weren’t doing anything wrong! Have I taught you nothing in my classroom?!”

Rick opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative when Hal caught his eye and gave him a stern look.

“Besides,” Miss Pettigrew continued, “I prefer that the details of my present predicament not be broadcast all over the school.”

Hal nodded toward his car. “Go on, kid. It’ll make the lady feel better.”

“I do hope that James is prompt,” Miss Pettigrew remarked as Rick plodded away. “This situation is becoming quite intolerable for my sinus condition.”

“Mine, too, Miss Pettigrew.”

“Oh? Are you afflicted with sinusitis, too, Harold?”

“No, ma’m. Just a good sense of smell.”

Rick slumped in the car seat and watched the Adams’s red and white wrecker hoist the dead steer from the car to the ditch. Then the wench hooked onto the Sylvester auto. A flurry of activity meant that Hal and Tom were extracting Miss Pettigrew from her mire. Then the wrecker towed away the demolished Plymouth.

Rick sat up as the little knot of survivors approached the squad car. Without considering, he rolled down the window. When he caught the whiff of raw, fresh manure, he quickly cranked the window back up.

“Wait!” Hal yelled.

Reluctantly, Rick rolled down the window again.

“The ladies are riding back to town with us. There’s an old Army blanket and some newspapers in the trunk. Get them out and spread them on the back seat.”

Rick rolled up the window to rid himself of the odor for a moment. But opening the door plunged him headlong into the full impact of the aromatic manure. He shook his head, crawled out of the squad car, and was awed by an incredible sight.

Helping Miss Pettigrew hadn’t been easy. Hal’s uniform was caked and dampened with fresh, green manure. A nauseated, perplexed, disgusted, helpless look twisted his face. Hal held his arms away from his body as if he couldn’t stand to touch himself. He was having trouble breathing because of the smell of filth on himself. He tried to gulp air through his gaping lips without tasting manure, but failed. His mouth watered with nausea, and slobbers drained from the opened corners. Even his eyes were watering from the fumes.

Rick gave Hal a bewildered, wide-eyed stare. Rick felt very sympathetic.

Hal’s eyebrows tried to meet somewhere high on his forehead. “Do something quick, kid. We gotta get out of here before we all get sick.”

Rick passed out facial tissues to Hal and Miss Pettigrew so they could filter their air. Then he opened the back car doors, arranged the blanket and newspapers, and stepped aside. He put out his hand to help, then withdrew it in confusion. He didn’t want to get that manure on himself.

 

“Alright,” Hal said, still in misery. “Miss Pettigrew and I will ride in back.” He grasped the elbow of the unrecognizable teacher.

“Wait!” Rick demanded. “Who’s driving?”

“You are, kid.”

“Me?! But I can’t drive a squad car!”

“It handles the same as any other car.”

“I know how to drive, but I’m not suppose to.”

“You can if I say so, and I say so.”

Miss Pettigrew balked. “I do not intend to ride anywhere with that young hoodlum!”

“Aw, Miss Pettigrew, won’t you please get in?” Hal begged. “Medina’s not going to take us on any wild joy ride. All I want to do is to get home and get out of these clothes. Besides, there’s no one else to drive. I doubt if Sadie wants to get behind the wheel so soon after her accident. And a squad car might intimidate her.”

Sadie Sylvester emphatically shook her head.

Hal and Miss Pettigrew arranged themselves stiffly on the papers. Rick waited until they were settled to close the back doors.

“Wait! Roll the windows down. We couldn’t stand ourselves after a few minutes.” Hal craned his head around Rick. “Thanks for helping, Tom.”

“Likewise, Sheriff.” Tom inspected his manure-speckled overalls. “My wife’s gonna wonder what the hell I’ve been doing in the barn.” He grinned stupidly.

Rick helped Sadie into the squad car and closed the door for her. When he got behind the wheel, he glanced at her. Simultaneously, they rolled down their windows.

Rick was a little reluctant to drive. But when the big squad car roared to life under his hands, he felt elated. Not counting the mini-bike episode, it’d been over a month since he’d driven. With the surge of the powerful engine at his command, he realized how much he’d missed driving.

The patrol car pulled smoothly onto the highway and cruised toward Beardsley. Nobody in the car said anything. Everyone was in too much misery.

Then the radio crackled: “Base to Mobile One. What’s your 10-20, Hal?”

“Answer that, kid. Just press that button. You know the jargon we use.”

Rick grasped the mike. “This is Mobile One, Base. We’ve left the crash site and are headed back to town. The two victims are uninjured, and we’re taking them home.”

The radio was silent for a moment, then: “Who’s talking?”

“This is Rick Medina.”

“Where’s the sheriff?”

“He can’t talk right now, Helen.”

Rising panic sounded in Helen’s voice. “Is he injured?”

“Negatory.”

Hal sighed and leaned forward. “I’ll have to talk to her. She gets excited every now and then. Give the mike to Sadie. Miss Sadie, you’ll have to press that button on top for me when I say so.”

“Mobile One, do you still copy?”

“Now, Miss Sadie. Base, this is Sheriff Endicott. Everything’s okay, Helen. I couldn’t answer a moment ago, that’s all.”

“10-4, Hal. Just checking.”

“Ah, tell George that I’ll be at my home for awhile. I’ll, ah, explain later.”

“10-4, Hal. Base clear.”

Rick hung up the microphone.

Back in town, Rick stopped at Miss Pettigrew’s house. He helped Sadie out, and Hal helped Miss Pettigrew. Hal crawled into the back seat again, and Rick shut all four of the car’s doors. As Rick watched Miss Pettigrew walking stiffly up the sidewalk and Sadie fluttering behind her, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the two prissy old maids.

Rick drove down the quiet residential street. It seemed strange for him to be in the front seat and Hal in the back.

“I fell like a chauffeur,” Rick commented.

“I won’t even say what I feel like.”

Rick’s eyes sparkled as he glanced at Hal’s shadowy form in the rear view mirror, but he didn’t want to laugh. Hal felt miserable enough already.

Rick drove into the Endicott’s attached double garage and held the car door open for Hal. The pungent manure had soaked through Hal’s uniform and was stinging his tender skin.

Hal wrinkled his nose. “God, I’ve got to get out of this mess! Back the car into the driveway so it can air out. Then go get my old bathrobe. Tell Bertha the plaid one.”

Rick parked the car, then knocked on the kitchen door.

“No! Just go on in!”

But it was too late. Bertha opened the door.

“Rick? I thought I heard some noises. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Hal? It’s only nine-thirty. Why, there’s the squad car.” She wrinkled her nose. “And what’s that awful smell?”

“Please, Bertha, I’ll answer all of your questions later. Would you please get the sheriff’s old plaid bathrobe?”

“His plaid bathrobe? Whatever do you want with that old thing?” She craned her neck, trying to see into the dark corners of the garage. “Where is the sheriff, anyway?”

“Just get the damned robe!” Hal bellowed.

“Hal? Is that you lurking in the shadows?” She sniffed. “Is that you that smells so awful?”

“Yes! Now, will you get that robe?! It’s cold out here!”

“Cold? What are you doing? Stripping?!”

“Yes! Now, hurry up! And don’t let the kids out here.”

While she was gone, Rick could hear Hal muttering obscenities behind him in the dark. Rick wished she’d hurry.

A few minutes later, Bertha handed the robe to Rick. Her eyes danced merrily as she leaned close and spoke in low tones. “I don’t know what he’s been up to tonight, but I want to hear all about it.” She winked broadly.

Rick felt a sense of foreboding as he delivered the clothing to the irate sheriff.

Hal, standing in the shadows, grabbed the robe. His skin felt chilly as Rick’s hand brushed his naked arm.

“Take those clothes outside, kid, and I’ll burn them tomorrow. I don’t care how expensive it was, I never want to smell that uniform again.”

“Don’t burn those clothes!” Bertha yelled from the doorway. “I can get them clean with Grandma’s Lye Soap. I like a challenge.”

“Get out of here, will you?! I’m not decent! Why’d you turn that light on?!”

“Yours isn’t the first bare rump I’ve ever seen! I’m a nurse, remember? Pile those clothes in the corner, the furthest corner, and I’ll look at them tomorrow.”

“They’ll be good and ripe by then!” 

“Let me worry about that.”

Hal motioned toward the clothes. “Go through the pockets, kid, and find my valuables. Don’t forget my badge on the shirt pocket. And the cigarette lighter. You could leave the other junk, but I gotta have those.” He headed for the kitchen.

Rick delicately rummaged through the stinking mess. “Hey, here’s your wallet!”

“Bring it in with the rest of the stuff!” Hal yelled over his shoulder as he stepped into the lighted kitchen.

Fascinated, Bertha stared at Hal’s dung-spattered face. But for once she was speechless.

“Hi, Pops! How come you smell so awful?”

“What are you doing out here?! Why aren’t you watching television like any normal kid?”

“I heard a ruckus. I’m a kid. I’m curious.” She wrinkled her nose. “Did your deodorant fail you?”

“It’s past your bedtime, Dodie. Get moving.”

“But, Pops! I want to hear what happened!”

“Scoot!” He chased her out of the kitchen.

Rick dumped Hal’s personal belongings on the counter. Besides the badge and wallet were loose coins, a tablet and pencil, fingernail clippers, the battered cigarette lighter, and a gold-plated spandex watch. Rick had found the expensive timepiece where it had hurriedly been cast aside on the cement floor.

“Why does he carry this dumb, old lighter?” Rick mumbled as he wiped it with a paper towel. “He doesn’t even smoke.”

“It belonged to a friend of his in Korea. His friend didn’t make it home, but he’s always been very special with Hal. You’ll have to ask Hal about him. Right now….”

Gwen pushed through the swinging door. She looked confused. “What’s wrong with Uncle Hal? He just ran past me and wouldn’t even answer me.”

“He was in a hurry to hit the shower.”

“At this hour? Why, he’s still on duty. What’s going on?”

“It’s all a bit hazy, but I think we have someone in our midst who can help clear up the mystery.”

They both stared at Rick who looked trapped.

Bertha crossed her arms. “I don’t know too much about this old world, Gwen, but I do know manure when I see it. And Hal was covered with it. He had to leave his clothing outside. Now, young man,” she said like a conspirator, “suppose you sit down at the table and tell us just what happened tonight.”

Rick jumped from her merry eyes to Gwen’s amazed face.

“I can’t,” he replied as he edged for the door. “I have to take the papers and blanket out of the backseat and clean up the upholstery.”

“The papers and blanket? Clean up the upholstery? This sounds better all the time. Come on. Sit down. That can wait.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He broke for the door. “I have to do it right now!” He darted outside.

Bertha raised her thick eyebrows. “Well, did you see that/ That boy’s part jackrabbit.”

“He did go out for track at his old school,” Gwen supplied.

“Well, he’d better go out for our team. He’ll win trophies at State.”

The women were waiting for Rick when he returned. Hal was nowhere in sight. Rick felt trapped again.

“Come, sit down by me, my new friend,” Bertha offered in honeyed tones. “Have one of my fresh-baked cookies and this nice glass of milk.”

Rick seemed reluctant.

“Oh, come on, Rick,” Bertha said in her normal voice. “Hal won’t mind if you tell us. And if he isn’t laughing about it by now, he will be tomorrow. You wouldn‘t know it, but Hal Endicott has a fine appreciation for the ridiculous, and this situation smells to high heaven. In more than one way.”

Rick sat down and allowed himself to be seduced with a sugar cookie and a glass of cold milk.

When Hal entered the kitchen, Bertha was roaring heartily and Gwen was snickering. Rick looked rather uncomfortable.

“Oh, Uncle Hal, how terrible! To have that awful stuff all over you. How horrible!”

“Yes,” Bertha chimed in. “I’m glad about one thing, though. I’m glad it was you and not me!”

“I expect you are,” Hal grumbled.

“Was the shower successful?”

Hal scowled at Bertha, then grinned. “The melody’s gone, but the memory lingers on.”

Bertha rocked with laughter as she slapped the table. Gwen giggled and Hal’s deep laugh rang through the kitchen.

Bertha fought for control. “Oh, my! I’m surprised you didn’t tear your clothes off right after it happened.”

“Lord, I want to! If it’d been just me and Medina out there, I would’ve. But can you imagine what a shock that would’ve been to those two old maids?”

“Maybe-- Oh, my! Maybe, they would’ve attacked you!”

They laughed until they cried.

Hal spotted the solemn Rick who didn’t know whether he should laugh or not. “What are you so quiet about, kid?”

Bertha wiped tears from her eyes. “He thought you’d be angry if he told us what happened. Believe me, Hal, he had no choice. We dragged the story out of him.”

“What happened, happened, kid. On this job, I have to have a sense of humor. It goes with the territory. Nothing’s been permanently damaged, except for the steer. And maybe Miss Pettigrew’s nose!”

That brought fresh peals of laughter. When they quieted, they heard giggles on the other side of the kitchen door.

“Dodie! You get to bed, and I mean now!” Hal grinned proudly as he listened to bare feet scurrying across the living room floor. “Can you believe that kid?!”

“She comes by it honest,” Bertha remarked.

Hal pulled himself out of his chair. Wearing khaki slacks and a brown and yellow plaid shirt, he looked strange out of uniform. He didn’t even resemble a cop, just a middle aged man in his kitchen on Saturday night.

“Where are you going now?” Bertha asked.

“I’ll get the Chevy and drive down to the station to see how George is doing.”

“Why didn’t you put on another uniform? Watch isn’t over yet.”

“Somehow, a uniform isn’t too appealing right now.” He overlooked Bertha’s laughter. “Come on, kid, I’ll drop you off at your place. It’s just ten-thirty now.”

“Take a couple of cookies with you, Rick,” Bertha urged. “Here, Hal, do you want one?” she teased.

Hal shook his head and curled his lip in disgust. “I may never be hungry again.”

Merry laughter followed him and Rick out the door.

The Chevy was chilly, but warmed quickly.

“One thing this old car has is a good heater,” Hal said as he drove down the street. “I expect I don’t have to tell you that what happened tonight isn’t to be told any further. We laughed about it among ourselves, but we don’t with other people.” He glanced at Rick. “Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good enough! I don’t care about myself so much, but it might be awfully embarrassing for the ladies. I hope Tom Johnson is smarter than he looks and keeps his mouth shut, too. But I’m not counting on it.”

“Miss Sylvester can sue him, can’t she?”

“She sure can! And I hope she does. I’ve been after him for weeks to do something about those cattle getting out. Well, here’s your stop. Thanks for all your help, again.” Hal grinned. “If this keeps up, I’ll have to make you a special deputy.”

Hal’s warm friendliness startled Rick. “Yes, sir,” he managed to answer. The cool air outside brought sensibility back to Rick as he stumbled up the sidewalk. He needed time to sort out the evening’s unique events.

Rick couldn’t explain it, but he’d felt contented riding the short distance to his house with Hal in the old Chevy. Maybe it was the lack of a uniform and squad car.

The good feeling lasted until Rick opened his front door and found his father lying drunk and passed out on the sofa. Instead of the usual loneliness and desolation crushing down on Rick, anger and rebellion raged through him. Why couldn’t Bert be more of a man?! Why couldn’t Bert Medina be more like Hal Endicott?!

 

The following week, Rick spent every night after school in the Endicott’s backyard. Sometimes, Gwen helped Bertha with supper and left Rick alone with Randy and Dodie. They played well together, and Randy’s legs continued to strengthen. Dodie shared her toys and her time, and Rick proved she wasn’t a bully.

It became routine for them to invite Rick for cookies and milk. They even added sandwiches which he appreciated. Their main problem was eating too much with Rick so they’d have no appetites for supper. But they managed.

And Hal was still none the wiser.

 

“I think I should warn you,” Gwen told Rick as they walked from school. “Dodie’s got a crush on you.”

Rick smiled gently. “I’m not complaining. I think the world of her.”

“She’s so cute! She never wanted a boyfriend. Lori used to laugh at her and tell her in time she’d like boys. Dodie’s even changed her hairdo for you and started wearing a dab of lipstick, so be sure to notice.”

“I will.”

“Last night, Uncle Hal noticed.” Gwen grinned. “He asked Dodie if she’d cut her mouth. And he meant it. That really made Dodie mad. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d been teasing. He was so amazed by her tantrum and stomping upstairs that Bertha and I had to run in the kitchen to keep from laughing in his face. Poor Uncle Hal! He must’ve thought we were all a little fey.”

“Hey, this sounds serious. Maybe I’m spending too much time at your place. Maybe I better stay away awhile.”

“Don’t you dare! Dodie’s just starting to act a little human. Don’t turn her back into a monster.”

“But I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“All little girls get crushes on older guys. I remember that at one time I was terribly in love with Uncle Hal.”

“Your uncle?!”

“That’s right. But as I got older, I saw how silly my daydreams were. I realized that he loved me in a special way that was far better than my infatuation. If you stopped seeing Dodie now, she’d never realize that your friendship is better than her crush on you. A crush is so one-sided. It disappears when real love is returned. So, you have to keep on seeing her.”

Rick shook his head to clear it. “I THINK I followed your logic. Women! Who can understand them?!”

Gwen laughed softly at him.

"What's so funny?" Rick wanted to know.

"Why just now you sounded just like Uncle Hal.”


	9. The Runaway

Rick arrived at ten till seven on Saturday evening, but Hal and his squad car were absent.

“Hal telephoned he’d be late,” Bertha said. “I’ll send a sack lunch for him with you. You can watch TV with the kids until he gets here.”

Rick didn’t feel neglected after he sat on the sofa. Randy perched on his lap and Dodie snuggled against his arm as they watched a show about a traveling circus.

Gwen settled in her uncle’s overstuffed chair. She seemed preoccupied as she glanced over a letter. Finally, she shoved it into her jeans pocket.

“Hi,” Rick called.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were here,” Gwen answered.

“You seem to be about a thousand miles away.”

“Just about that far. Chicago, in fact.”

“Chicago? Who wants to be there? It’s cold up north.”

“I know. I used to live in Chicago.”

“No kidding. I didn’t know that. I just thought you were always from here.”

“My dad came from there. That’s where his family is. His brother, Floyd Pfeiffer, owns several gasoline stations in the Chicago area.”

“He must be rich.”

“He is. This letter’s from him. He’s married again, and he and my new aunt want me to visit them.”

“That might be fun.”

“They’ll want me to live with them, I just know it! And I like it here. Besides, when my folks died, Uncle Floyd and Daddy’s other relatives refused to help me. They didn’t want Daddy to marry my mother, so they wouldn’t have anything to do with me, either. But Uncle Hal took me in. He said there was always room for one more under his roof. If I went to Chicago, I’d seem ungrateful to him.”

“I expect he’d understand. Besides, he knows you’d have more opportunities in Chicago. There would be more things to do.”

“I’d be close to colleges and museums and auditoriums for musical and sporting events. It might be fun at that.”

Dodie looked up. “Are you leaving?”

“I don’t know. My uncle’s coming to visit in a month. I expect he’ll want me to go back to Chicago with him.”

Dodie walked to Gwen’s chair. “Don’t go.”

“You’d have the bedroom all to yourself then.”

Dodie’s finger twisted material on the chair’s arm. “I don’t want to be alone. Please stay with me. You’re the only sister I’ve got now.”

Gwen knew how much of a charmer Dodie could be when she wanted, but Gwen’s eyes still filled with tears. “I’ll write my uncle tonight and tell him I can’t go with him because I’m happy right here. How does that sound?”

“Hooray!” Dodie shouted.

Randy chimed in, not knowing what he was cheering about.

“Whew!” Dodie said. “I really have to work to keep this family together,” she said to Rick as she sat down beside him again.

When Hal pulled in front, Rick ran outside and jumped in the patrol car. He shook from the cold air, but quickly got warm from the car’s heater.

“Cold night,” Hal said as he turned the corner and headed downtown. “Not many people on the streets, either. It’s a good night to stay indoors, alright.”

Rick rustled in the paper sack he held.

“What do you have there?” Hal asked with interest.

“Bertha sent you some hot coffee and sandwiches. When you called and said you’d be late, she fixed this stuff.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Rick handed him a salami and American cheese sandwich. “She said this was poor diet food. She said that you should take the time to sit down and eat the New England clam chowder and spinach salad she fixed.”

“She’s always got something to say. Get yourself a sandwich if you want it.”

Rick drew back. “I ate at my place. Coffee?”

“Yeah, if you can pour it while the car’s going. You might as well have some, too. I bet she sent along two cups, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but I still don’t like the stuff.”

Hal grinned. “Kids today! They won’t drink coffee, but they’ll pour other strange things down their throats.”

“Who’s to say which is worse? Coffee’s just slower.”

“You’ve got a point there. Whew, that woman can cook that coffee hot! Anything else in that sack worth eating?”

“A banana. And Dodie sneaked in a couple of oatmeal cookies when Bertha wasn’t looking.”

Hal grinned. “Good kid I’ve got there. Well, where are they? I can’t let them get old and stale, can I?”

They drove around Beardsley for over an hour. Few cars were in town, except for the ones clustered around the movie theatre and the eating places.

Hal yawned. “Might as well check the highway again.”

They cruised out to the highway and saw two pairs of lights headed toward town.

Hal sat up with interest. “Looks like someone’s looking over the quarter.”

The headlights recalled sharp memories for Rick. Six weeks ago, he would’ve been driving one of those cars. He’d loved proving that Honeysuckle Rose was the fastest car in Beardsley.

“We’ll just pull up here and see if the boys are clean.”

Hal stopped the patrol car on the side street. A large maple tree partially hid him from the approaching cars. As they passed the darkened squad car, Rick recognized the drivers and wanted to shout a warning. He’d never been particularly friendly with the boys, but he felt a kinship with them.

The hot rods rumbled slowly up the highway and negotiated a U-turn. They lined up, gunned their motors, and shot down the road with tires squalling.

“I thought so.” Hal turned on his red lights and siren, and his vehicle careened onto the highway behind the speeding cars.

“Mobile One to Mobile Two. Am in pursuit of two speeders. Get on out here, George. I’ve got two quail trying the quarter.”

“I’m on my way, Hal.”

The three cars sped past the grain bins that marked the boundary of the quarter mile race strip. Nobody slowed.

Rick glanced at the speedometer. Eighty-five and climbing. He hoped they met nobody.

Hal seemed intent on the chase, but his face was calm and his hands were relaxed on the steering wheel. There was a gleam of adventure in his eyes. That’s when Rick realized that Hal was enjoying himself. Why, Hal must’ve liked racing with him, too!

Hal glanced in the rear view mirror. “There’s George.”

Rick looked over his shoulder and saw the flashing red light behind them.

“Hold on!” Hal warned.

Rick saw one set of taillights disappear up a dirt road while the first set blasted down the main track.

“They’re splitting up! They don’t know George is behind us!” Hal stayed with the first car.

Rick caught a glimpse of George’s car tearing down the dirt trail after the second car. Then Hal’s squad swung around a long turn, and George was lost from sight.

Hal’s quarry challenged the dangerous Sawyer Curve, won, and romped the accelerator. His taillights grew smaller.

Rick knew they were going too fast, but Hal didn’t let up one bit. He hit Sawyer’s Curve at a high rate of speed and fought the wheel to keep from spinning out. The tires took the curve on their rims. It was a nightmare world of glaring sirens, shimmering redness, and tilting horizons. Rick tensed for a crash and wished he was driving.

The patrol car swung out of the curve, and Hal floor-boarded the gas pedal. Rick felt weak. He had a new respect for Hal’s driving ability.

The squad’s speedometer hand crept toward one hundred as the distance between the two speeding cars shortened. Hal’s headlights lit up a familiar red Mustang.

“Tim Murphy,” Hal mumbled. “Doc’s too busy to keep a tight rein on that kid.”

Rick thought it was an odd thing to say in the middle of a chase, but forgot it because the Mustang slowed as it topped a hill. Tim pulled off the road and stopped.

“They all gotta try me once, just for the hell of it,” Hal mumbled. “Darned fool kid! Could’ve gotten us all killed in these hills.” He jumped out of the prowl car almost before it came to a jerking halt.

Rick didn’t know Hal could move that fast.

With a sheepish look on his pimply face, Tim pulled himself out of his sports car and met Hal behind the Mustang. They stood talking between the two vehicles while the patrol car’s flashing lights threw eerie waves over them.

Rick watched with mixed emotions. He was sorry Tim got caught, but he felt the elation of winning the chase. And he was still marveling over Hal’s display of car handling. No wonder Hal rarely lost a race.

It started so slowly that Rick thought he imagined the slight motion. Then the patrol car definitely began rolling downhill, straight for Hal and Tim. For a moment, Rick sat paralyzed as the car lurched forward, gaining speed. He saw the two doomed men turn and stare dumbly at the approaching lights. An eternity seemed to slide by in slow motion. The same unknown Something that had chilled him during the Doran rescue crept along his shoulders, and Rick shivered.

Rick grabbed the steering wheel and twisted it hard to the right. The car lumbered sharply to the side, but Hal would’ve been knocked down and probably squashed between the two cars if Tim hadn’t pulled him aside. The cruiser grazed Tim’s car, bounced through a grader ditch, and shoved its right front bumper into the bank. Rick winced as he landed solidly against the rider’s door.

An instant later, Hal tore open the door on the driver’s side. His face bleached dead white when he saw Rick slumped over. “Are you okay?!”

Rick shook his head to clear it, batted his eyes, and gingerly moved his sore right arm. “I, I think so.”

“What the hell happened?!”

“My arm. I hit my arm. On the door,” Rick answered in a daze.

“But why did the car move?!”

“The car. It started, rolling. Like something on, television.” Rick shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don’t know, unless, you must’ve left the car in neutral.”

Hal’s mouth flew open, but he said nothing.

George pulled up. “I ticketed Jerry Boyer for speeding and turned him loose. What happened here?”

“I didn’t put my car in park, and it rolled. Medina managed to steer it away from me and Tim.” He looked at the frightened boy standing beside him. “Thanks, Tim, for pulling me out of the way. I appreciate it. George, give Tim a ticket for speeding. I have to get Medina over to the doctor’s office.”

“Did Rick get hurt?”

“He says not, but I’ll make sure. He got a pretty good jolt to the arm and was shook up in general.”

With a helpful push from George and Tim, Hal backed the squad car out of the grader ditch.

“Seems to drive okay,” Hal muttered as he steered down the highway. “Maybe the damage is only minor.” He glanced at Rick grasping his injured arm. “Try to relax those muscles. I’ll have you back to town in a jiffy. I hope Doc Murphy isn’t out on a call somewhere.”

“I don’t need any doctor,” Rick mumbled as he released the grip on his arm.

Stubborn cuss, Hal thought. “Seeing Doc won’t hurt.”

 

Rick sat stripped to the waist on the examining table. His skin was smooth and lightly tanned with no thick layer of fat between it and his muscles. A silver medallion dangled on his hairless chest, and he shivered in the chilly air of the doctor’s office. Hal stood beside him in the small room and leaned against the wall with his big arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, now, we’ll see just what you’ve done to yourself,” Doctor Murphy said in his soothing voice. “I’ll try not to hurt you, Rick.”

Rick winced as the doctor touched his right arm.

Murphy shot a look at Rick. “Tender?”

Rick nodded.

“I’ll try to be real gentle, then.” The doctor carefully manipulated the arm. “Don’t tense your muscles. That’s good.” Murphy straightened. “Well, I don’t think anything’s broken. You’ll be stiff and sore for a few days. And you’ll get a whale of a bruise. But that’s about all. Just take it easy for awhile, and we’ll see how you get along.” He studied Rick’s sparse frame. “You better put some meat on those bones. You look like you’re underweight.”

“I don’t eat much.”

“Better do something about that.” He nodded toward Hal. “Find out what the sheriff’s been eating. I’ve been trying to get some of that lard off him for years.”

Rick glanced quickly at Hal, but saw that Hal wasn’t angry at the doctor’s remark. In fact, Hal wore a pleasant, almost humorous look on his round face.

“The kid doesn’t want to wind up looking like me, Doc.”

“Maybe you should eat the way Rick does, and he should eat like you. Then, you’d both come out about even.”

“He wouldn’t want this upset gut, either, Doc.”

“Upset stomach? Do you get it a lot?”

Hal shrugged. “Oh, sometimes. I think it’s the damn job.”

“Maybe I better look you over while you’re here.”

Hal shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I’m on duty now. Besides, Bertha’s always after me to eat right.”

Murphy held up his index finger. “You listen to Bertha. She’s right. And if the pain ever gets worse, come and see me.”

Hal breathed deeply with the relief of missing an examination. He hated to be sick. “Alright, Doc.”

Murphy eyed Rick. “I bet the sheriff drinks strong coffee and eats cold sandwiches, doesn’t he? And ice cream and cake without Bertha’s knowledge, too. Right?”

Rick looked startled. Hal cleared his throat and studied his shoes.

Doctor Murphy smiled and handed Rick his shirt. “You can get dressed now, son.”

Hal straightened and automatically helped Rick into the plaid shirt. “Does he need any medicine?”

“Just aspirin. He can have pain pills if he needs them.” He dug through an open box on his desk. “Take along these samples. They’re a mild sedative. Now, Rick, I want you to avoid excitement. That sore arm’s going to work on your nerves, so try to stay calm. If you feel like you need one of these pills, take it and get some sleep.”

Hal shoved the small packet into his shirt pocket. “Thanks for looking him over, Doc. Charge this call to me.”

“I can pay!”

“Look, kid, it was my fault you got hurt. And I could’ve been killed myself. Lucky for me you were along to turn that wheel.”

“Sounds like you had yourself a full evening, Rick. It’s not everyday that you get to save someone’s life.”

Rick could hear the sound of respect in Murphy’s voice. He wasn’t accustomed to people finding anything about him to like. It gave Rick a sudden warm feeling that halfway scared him. He didn’t want to need other people’s praise. 

Rick was about to say it was nothing really important when he realized with a jolt that it was. Hal Endicott could’ve died if it hadn’t been for him. At the least, Hal could’ve been seriously injured. In all the excitement, Rick hadn’t fully comprehended that. It was an odd feeling knowing he’d rescued someone who despised him so intensely.

Hal and the doctor helped Rick down off the table, and then Hal scurried ahead to open the car door. Rick supposed it was Hal’s way of thanking him.

Hal settled Rick in the squad car.

“Watch your arm, now,” Hal cautioned. “I’m going to shut the door.”

If his arm hadn’t been hurting so badly, Rick wouldn’t have let Hal fussed over him the way he was. But at the moment, he really didn’t care what happened to him.

Hal crawled in the cruiser and drove slowly down the quiet street. No other car was moving.

Rick’s silence bothered Hal. “What’s wrong? Is your arm hurting worse?”

“No. It’s feeling better now since the doctor stopped twisting around on it.”

Hal breathed deeply and allowed himself a small grin. “I know what you mean. Lots of times, if you don’t know where something hurts, a doctor will help you find it.” He turned down a familiar street.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll drop you off at your place. Better go straight to bed and try to get some rest.”

“It isn’t ten-thirty yet.”

“It is by my watch.”

Rick stared at Hal who suddenly became interested in the passing streetlights. This wasn’t the first thing that Hal had done this evening to amaze him.

“You didn’t tell Doc about Tim getting a ticket.”

Hal forgot the streetlights. “I’m giving Tim a chance to do that himself. It’s easy enough to check later with Doc.”

“But I thought you’d….”

“Squeal on Tim? I’ve always given kids a break. Hell, you had more than most. You just didn’t know about it.”

“But Tim pulled you out of the way of the car, and you still gave him a ticket.”

“And I shouldn’t have done that because he saved my life?”

“That’s right.”

“No, it’s not right. He broke the law, the law of the people, not my law. I can’t change the regulations to suit myself, even if I am grateful to Tim. I’m hired to enforce the law and to protect people.” He glanced at Rick. “Even you.” 

Rick grimaced.

Hal breathed heavily. “That’s why you shouldn’t be riding with me. I know why the judge gave you that sentence, but it’s still not right to jeopardize a civilian. You could’ve gotten hurt real bad out there tonight simply because you were with me.”

“That’s just the sheriff talking.” His arm ached, and pain loosened his tongue. “Personally, you’d cheer if I tripped and broke my neck.”

Hal was truly puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of what happened to Lori.”

At the sound of Lori’s name, it all came hurtling back to Hal: the sharp pain of losing her, his bitterness against Rick, and his frustration of being thrown together with him. But crashing through his personal feelings was Murphy’s cautioning Rick not to become excited.

“Your getting hurt wouldn’t bring Lori back, so it wouldn’t solve anything,” Hal said as calmly as he could.

An angry sneer marred Rick’s young face. “Come on, be honest! Seeing me dead would square our account, and you know it!”

The words slapped Hal across the face. A picture of Rick lying dead flashed through his mind. It aroused no joy for Hal, only pity, shock, and a sickening feeling in his stomach. He didn’t want revenge as much as satisfaction from this boy who’d hurt him so badly. Death was too easy. If Rick were dead, he couldn’t suffer. And Hal wanted him to suffer. 

“Do you really think that dying would erase your guilt?” he asked in a low, but emotion filled voice. “You killed my daughter. Nothing can change that.”

The brick wall of Hal’s unrelenting accusations put Rick on the defensive. “But, but, how come someone has to feel guilty? Nobody knew that tire was going to blow. It was an accident.”

“No amount of talking will change the fact that she’s dead. And she’d be alive today and home with her family if you’d left her alone. That’s something you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life.”

“But you were chasing us! If you hadn’t done that, there would have been no crash!”

“I know. That’s what I have to live with. I didn’t know Lori was in the car.”

“If you’d let us dated openly, we wouldn’t have tried to get away from you that night. What was wrong with me, anyway? Didn’t I come from the right family?”

“Lori was a young, impressionable girl. She couldn’t see the danger to herself or to her reputation by being seen with you. All she wanted was the excitement of being with the new kid in town and his bright yellow car. Hell, all girls go through that stage. But I thought she should date someone we all knew a little better. Besides, I thought you ran around with a wild crowd. I didn’t want Lori exposed to that. I wanted her to date a nice, quiet boy.”

“You wanted?! YOU wanted?! What about what Lori wanted?!”

Hal forced himself to control his temper. Something was causing Medina to talk so rashly, and Hal had to try to keep him calm. “She wasn’t old enough to know what she wanted.”

“Are you sure?! She wanted ME! And that’s what galled you, wasn’t it?”

Revengeful, hurting words sprang to Hal’s lips. But he realized that those words would merely mask his own prejudices. He’d had no solid reasons to stop Lori from dating Rick, only excuses. He felt a little sheepish now to admit that he’d judged Rick by his family and by the car he’d driven.

“She didn’t hop when you barked,” Rick continued. “She had a mind of her own.”

“Headstrong, yes,” Hal murmured, suddenly subdued. “But a good girl. A kind, loving daughter who wouldn’t have hurt anyone.” Memories of Lori and his loss overwhelmed him so greatly he could barely speak. Grief choked his voice into a whisper filled with pain and sorrow. “I miss her so much!”

Rick bit his mouth shut and didn’t answer.

When Hal stopped in front of Rick’s house, he’d regained his composure. “Will your father be home?”

“I doubt it,” Rick answered sullenly. “He got his pension check yesterday. He’s probably somewhere drinking it up right now.”

“Will you be alright?”

“I’m used to being by myself.”

“I mean, with the arm.”

“It’s just bruised a little. It’ll be okay by morning.”

“If it isn’t, call Doc Murphy. Don’t worry about the expense. Hear?”

Rick’s eyes flashed. “Why are you so concerned?! Doc said I was okay. That should get you and the county off the hook. Don’t worry. You won’t be held accountable if your albatross keels over. If I do, I’ll make sure I don’t do it on your time!” He wrenched the door open and grimaced as he pulled himself out of the car. He’d caused himself fresh pain and didn’t want Hal to know, but bodily weakness forced him to cling to the door with his left hand and pant hard with his head down. He couldn’t move.

“Are you alright, kid? Are you feeling worse?”

Anger gave Rick new strength, and he glared at Hal. “How do you expect I feel, having to ride with someone who hates my guts?! I’ve said I was sorry about Lori’s accident. That’s all I can do! That’s all anyone could do! But nothing registers in that hard head of yours, does it? Nothing, except another dead body. Mine!”

Hal dropped his mouth open in surprise and tried to say something, but Rick wouldn’t let him.

“I know all you care about is getting even. And in a way, I don’t blame you. Someone you loved is dead because of me.” Rick drew himself up. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll accommodate you by dying off. And I won’t let this little accident tonight scare me off from riding with you, either. I’m not going to prison for something I couldn’t prevent. So get used to having me around, Sheriff. You’re stuck with me!”

“That bump jarred you up more than we thought, Medina. Get in, and I’ll take you back to Doc Murphy’s office.”

“I don’t need you or that ten cent doctor! Just leave me alone! Leave me alone!” Rick slammed the door and ran.

Hal stared at the gray house hulking in the shadows. Light flooded its living room and punctuated the darkness outside. Rick was momentarily framed in the entrance before he slammed that door shut, too. Hal blinked, then pursed his lips in thought and drove slowly away.

Rick leaned against his front door as his eyes wildly searched the ceiling. That damned sheriff! He wouldn’t get mad at Rick. And anger, Rick understood. But not concern. No solicitude.

Rick listened to the sound of the squad car’s engine slowly die away. The silence of the empty house rang in his ears.

Sudden, wracking sobs tore at his throat. His eyes stung. A hurting heaviness bore down on his chest. If only he could cry! But he couldn’t.

Rick rubbed his left fist into his smarting eyes. “Damn it!” he muttered as he stumbled toward his bedroom. “Damn it all to hell!”

Someone knocked on the front door. Without considering who it could be, Rick retraced his steps and tore open the door. He blinked and stared wildly at Hal Endicott.

“You forgot your pain pills.”

“I don’t need them!”

Rick tried to slam the door in Hal’s face, but Hal pushed it open and stepped inside.

“I think you do need a sedative. Put on your pajamas and get into bed. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“You can’t break into my home like this!”

“Listen, you either do as I say, or I’ll get Doc Murphy over here. He might even put you in the hospital if you don’t settle down.”

They both knew Rick suffered more from anger than pain.

“Alright! Alright! I’m going! I’m getting into bed!” He stomped out of the living room.

Hal grinned as he reached for the phone and dialed. “Helen? This is Hal. I’m over at the Medina place. I’ll be here for awhile in case you need me. No, he’s okay. Just needs to be tucked in, that’s all.”

Hal drained a glass of water and headed for the lighted bedroom. His eyes quickly noted the Colonial chest, twin beds separated by a nightstand, and a student desk with chair. It was newer and nicer furniture than in the nearly bare living room and kitchen.

In one of the twin beds, Rick lay propped up on two pillows. His eyes defiantly glared at Hal.

“Sit up and I’ll give you the pill.”

“I can take it myself!” Rick grabbed for the glass, yelped in pain, and spilled water.

“Will you let me do it?” Hal soaked up water with a tissue, then sat on the bed. “Your right arm’s no good, and you’re not left-handed. So, open your mouth and shut up.”

In spite of his defiance, Rick’s eyes sparkled with humor. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Look, kid, you can take this pill either orally, or up the other end. Either way, I don’t care. But take it you will. I am prepared to do whatever it takes.”

The corners of Rick’s mouth twitched with mirth, and his eyes danced. He opened his mouth.

Hal poked the pill inside and held the glass to Rick’s lips. Rick looked at Hal over the top of the glass, but Hal was watching so that no more water was spilled.

Rick leaned back against his pillows. “You sure talk rough to a sick person.”

“Sometimes, it’s necessary.” Hal set the water glass on the lamp table. “My mother used to say the same thing to me when I wouldn’t take my medicine.”

“Sounds like a mean old lady.”

“I never knew her as an old lady. She died when she was thirty-seven.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was in and out of hospitals for years. Death was a blessing.”

“I mean I’m sorry I made you remember.”

“I’m the one who mentioned her first. Besides, I was only ten at the time. The years have softened the blow. I get a lonesome feeling when I think of her, though.”

“That’s how I miss my grandfather, and other people who are gone. I wish I could bring them back just long enough to tell them I loved them.”

“Yeah,” Hal murmured.

Rick was surprised to see tears spring into Hal’s eyes. He’d touched the heart of this gruff lawman. They were both thinking of Lori.

Hal blinked tears away as he abruptly grabbed the sheet and blanket. “Alright, scoot down under the covers. You have to keep that arm warm.”

Rick pretended not to notice the tears as he lay down and allowed Hal to pull the covers to his chin.

“Warm enough? Do you want another blanket? Tell me where it is, and I’ll get it.” He started to rise before he finished speaking.

“No. That’s okay. I’m fine.” Rick realized that he should thank Hal for helping him, but he didn’t know how. Now that it was his turn to express gratitude, he understood how difficult it had been for Hal. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for staying and helping.”

“Just part of my job, boy.”

Rick’s eyelids began to droop, but he fought the sleepiness. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“Not until you’re asleep,” Hal said softly.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Rick mumbled.

“I know.” Hal also knew Rick would’ve never admitted that if he were totally awake.

The drug caught Rick and hurtled him downward in a swirling circle. He whimpered and twisted violently.

Hal leaned forward and braced his hand on the pillow. “Don’t fight it. Just close your eyes and drift with it.”

Rick’s eyes were dilated so he couldn’t see, but he turned to the sound of Hal’s voice. His cheek touched Hal’s fingers, and he immediately calmed. His heavy lids closed once, twice, and didn’t reopen. A faint smile gently curved along his lips as he went to sleep in Hal‘s hand.

Hal’s first impulse was to jerk his hand away. He didn’t want to touch Rick so intimately. But he knew any sudden movement would disturb Rick. So he waited.

It was the face of a child that Hal watched. The long, sooty lashes on the fair skin contrasted with the slight blush high on the cheek bones. There was something almost girlish in the delicate features. Such innocence was hard to find in the face of someone past puberty. No wonder Lori had lost her heart to him.

Hal made certain that Rick was asleep before he carefully removed his hand. Rick never moved. He lay on his left arm, and Hal believed he’d remain that way all night.

Hal gingerly tucked the covers around Rick’s right shoulder and was rising from the bed when he heard the back door open and close.

Bert Medina looked startled when Hal appeared in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He set down his six-pack of beer.

“Shh! Your boy’s in the bedroom, asleep.”

“Asleep? At this hour?! What happened?”

“There was a little accident and….”

“Accident?! I knew something like this would happen if he rode with you! I’ll see….”

Hal grabbed his arm. “Wait! Don’t disturb him.”

Bert’s eyes flashed. “Don’t be telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home, Bull! You might be able to push me around on the other side of that front door, but I’m still boss in here! And I aim to find out what’s wrong with my son!” He flung open Rick’s bedroom door and switched on the light. His anger disappeared as he watched Rick peacefully sleeping. “He looks alright to me.”

“He is. Or he will be with a little rest. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it in the living room.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Bert said after he heard the whole story. “I guess it’s alright, seeing as how you took care of him and all. I’m mighty grateful to you on that account.”

“I’m the one who’s grateful. He probably saved my life. I at least would’ve had my legs both broken or severed. I’m here with him because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

Bert didn’t like the meaning of Hal’s words and quickly ushered Hal to the door. “Well, thanks for taking care of him. I’d like to go be with him now.”

Hal managed to stop in the doorway. “Remember to call me if he needs anything.”

“Will do, Sheriff. Thanks for the offer. Good night, now. Yes, I’ll remember. Good night.” He closed the door, and his smile disappeared. “I’ll see you in Hell before I beg for your help! Leave my boy alone, you damned bull! He’s mine!”

Bert stashed his unopened six-pack in the refrigerator. Then he hurried into Rick’s room.

When Rick awoke the next morning, he felt a hand under his face. He vaguely remembered going to sleep on Hal’s out-stretched fingers. Surely, the sheriff still wasn’t with him! His eyes flew open.

Rick’s amazement turned into a smile. “Dad! What are you doing in here?”

“Watching you. Didn’t mean to wake you up. I just had to touch you, that’s all.”

“That’s all right.” Rick gazed fondly at his father. “You look real good this morning, Dad.”

Bert stroked Rick’s smooth cheek with his rough thumb. “You mean you’re glad I’m not sleeping off a hangover, don’t you? Well, I didn’t have any desire for alcohol when I learned you’d been hurt. You were my only concern.”

Rick shifted in bed. “You talked to the sheriff then.”

“He was leaving when I walked in. He did alright by you, boy, taking care of you and all. He acted real worried about you.”

“Sure, he did,” Rick mumbled as he picked at his sheet. “He and the county were responsible for me. They might get in trouble if I got hurt real bad.”

Bert remembered Hal saying it was more than duty that made him stay. For some reason Hal hadn’t told Rick that, and Bert sure as hell wouldn’t! He felt elated. “That’s what I’ve always told you about those bulls. They don’t care about us little guys. Just so they can cover their own tracks.” Bert had brooded all night about the threat Hal was posing to his fatherhood. He worried that Hal had eroded Rick’s affections, but Bert knew better now that he’d talked to Rick.

“You know, son, I was thinking that if you felt like it, we might go up to the lake and do a little fishing today. It’s warm out, and I’ll handle the rods so you won’t hurt your arm again. We could take a picnic lunch and just lounge on the bank if the fish aren’t biting. We might even stay long enough to watch the stars come out. You always liked doing that with your grandpa, didn‘t you?”

Rick sat up. “Who’s sick?!”

Bert grinned. “Good boy! Get dressed and we’ll see about getting this expedition going.”

 

Hal hung up the kitchen phone and stared at it thoughtfully. He reached for his coffee cup, but didn’t drink.

“Who have you been trying to reach all morning?” Bertha demanded as she scrubbed some sweet potatoes.

“Just a follow-up,” Hal mumbled as he dialed again. “Doc? This is Hal Endicott. Heard anything from the Medina kid? You haven’t? Listen, do you think there’d be any complications? You don’t? Well, thank you, Doc. Bye.”

“Now that you’ve got that settled, you can go sit in your favorite chair in the living room and read your Sunday paper. Relax your mind a little. Read about all of the murders and wars and killer storms. It’ll do you a world of good.”

“Think I’ll take a drive before dinner,” Hal muttered as he pushed aside his cold coffee.

“What’s wrong with him?” Gwen asked after he left.

“A bad case of conscience, I think. He’s probably on his way now to see if Rick and his dad are both dead in their beds.”

After Hal drove past the deserted Medina home and found no old green Ford parked out front, he drove back to his house and read about all of the murders and wars and killer storms out there beyond Beardsley, Oklahoma.

But he couldn’t have told anyone a single fact that he’d read.


	10. Margo Leaves

“Where’s Rick?” Dodie demanded for the fifth time. “It’s already four-thirty.”

“Maybe he isn’t coming today,” Bertha answered as she slid a pan of meatloaf into the oven. “Your dad said Rick got his arm bruised Saturday night. Maybe he doesn’t feel like playing.”

“Well, he could still come and see us, couldn’t he? He wouldn’t have to PLAY. We could watch TV. His TV at home doesn’t work anymore.” She pushed away from the kitchen table. “I think I’ll go outside and see if he’s coming.”

“Me, too!” Randy chimed in and followed her out.

“Well, at least we won’t have to listen to their questions for awhile,” Bertha said to Gwen. “I was afraid they’d get hurt if he ever stopped coming around.”

“What happened Saturday night? Did Uncle Hal say?”

“Only that there had been a minor accident, and Rick got hurt slightly. It’s what Hal didn’t say that has me curious. He was awfully quiet and thoughtful when he was telling me. I think Rick told him off about something.”

“Maybe they got in a fight.”

“No, I think it was one-sided. If Hal had been in a fight, he would’ve been mad. Instead, he was doing a lot of thinking. You know how silent he was all day yesterday.”

“I remember. I wonder how Rick managed to tell him off without making him angry?”

“Only one way. Rick told him the truth.”

Gwen pulled aside the curtain and smiled. “Look. There’s Rick now. Let‘s go say hello and see how his arm is doing.” 

She and Bertha walked outside to talk to him.

Dodie was tugging at Rick’s left hand. “Come inside with us!”

“I can’t tonight, Dodie. I just stopped by for a few minutes to see how all of you were doing.”

“But you have to see how much better Randy is!”

“Okay, but just for a little while. Go find your ball.”

“Hello, there!” Bertha called. “How’s the arm?”

Rick tensed up when he saw her and Gwen. “Oh, it’s fine. Thanks for asking.” He looked around cautiously.

“Is something wrong?” Gwen asked.

“The sheriff isn’t here, is he?”

“No. I could call him if you wanted to see him.”

“No! I mean, no, thank you, Bertha.”

“We don’t expect him here until six.” Bertha thought Rick seemed more nervous than usual about running into Hal. “Well, I have to get back inside. Glad your arm is better. Gwen, you might as well stay out here and visit for awhile. I think I’ve got supper under control.”

Gwen sensed Rick’s nervousness, too. “Thank you, Bertha.”

Bertha walked inside the house, leaving the children to their play. She checked the baking meatloaf and scalloped potatoes and then dug a can of green greens from the cupboard. After mixing up some Bisquik, she dumped it over sliced peaches and stuck the pan in the oven. A pedestrian meal to match a policeman’s salary. Occasionally, she pulled the red-checkered curtain aside to watch the mixed quartet playing.

The door to the living room swung open as she was looking outside. She swung around and gave Hal a guilty look.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Hal apologized. “Is there any coffee?”

“On the, ah, stove.” When Hal’s back was turned, she pulled the curtains together. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“I stopped out front. Had the squad down to the repair shop. Got the fender straightened out from that little incident Saturday night.” He sat down at the table.

“Was there much damage?”

“No, only minor. Thought I’d stop here before going back to the office. You go ahead with whatever you were doing. Don’t let me bother you.” He sipped his coffee.

“I was just seeing to supper,” she said as she set a stack of flowered plates on the table.

“Sounds like the kids are having a good time. It’s a wonder the neighbors don’t complain about the noise.”

“Whom would they complain to? You’re the sheriff.”

There was a lull in the shouting, and Bertha heard Rick yell, “He doesn’t have it! He doesn’t have it!” She peeked out the window and saw Rick grab Randy in his arms and dance around with him. Dodie joined in with war whoops.

“What’s all the racket about?” Hal paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth and frowned. “That sounds like Medina. What’s he doing here?”

“I guess the jog’s up. Rick just proved that polio didn’t hurt Randy.”

Hal set his cup down slowly. “What?”

“I said R….”

“I heard.” He jumped up. “I heard!” Hal ran outside to where an overjoyed Rick was hugging Randy. Hal stared at them.

“He doesn’t have it!” Rick yelled at Hal, forgetting everything except his excitement and pleasure. “It’s never bothered him! Isn’t it great?! We made him exercise and it built up his legs. Now he’s as strong as any other kid. You won’t be able to stop him from running! Isn’t it great?!”

Still grinning, Rick whirled and faced Gwen, Dodie, and Bertha to see their smiles. But a quiet gloom had settled on all of them. Rick frowned, not understanding. Wasn’t it exciting news? And then it hit him. Hal knew. Hal knew now that Rick had been secretly coming to his house.

Rick sobered. He handed Randy over.

Hal took Randy, but continued to stare at Rick. Then Randy demanded Hal’s attention, and Hal stared at him. Randy grinned, and Hal hugged the little boy hard.

Rick saw Hal squeeze his eyes tightly shut.

Hal set Randy on the ground. “Run for Daddy.”

Randy took off, his powerful legs churning up the grass.

“I’ll be damned.” A big grin spread over Hal’s face. “I’ll be damned.”

“It was Rick’s idea,” Gwen said. “We’ve been working with Randy after school.”

“And it sure paid off. Thanks, kids. I sure appreciated it.” Hal was fascinated with watching Randy run.

“Can Rick stay for supper?” Dodie asked.

“Hmm?” Hal was concentrating on Randy. “Sure. We have to celebrate, don’t we? Hey, Randy! Let’s go show Mama.”

“Hear that?” Dodie breathed to Rick. Wonder sparkled in her eyes as she gently brushed Rick’s hand in passing. “You can stay for supper.”

Gwen and Dodie followed Hal and Randy inside and up the stairs. Rick and Bertha were left in the kitchen.

Rick paced nervously and flexed his sore arm as Bertha finished setting the table. He kept watching the swinging door into the living room. When he thought he heard a heavy step on the stairway, he bolted for the back door.

Bertha cut off his escape. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Why?”

“I gotta get out of here. I….”

Bertha backed him against the door. “Won’t you ever quit running from Hal? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I’m getting tired of it. His children have been acting like traitors for two weeks because you said so.”

“Just let me out, and I won’t bother any of you again.”

“You aren’t bothering us. Why can’t you stay for supper?”

“Because it’s HIS food, Bertha. He bought it. He’d begrudge me every bit of it. He has to put up with me on Saturday nights, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to mess with me the rest of the week.”

“If you feel that way, why have you spent so much time over here? This is still his home. He’s bound to be around sometimes.”

“I just wanted to help a little kid. But it was a mistake. Not because of Randy, but because of the sheriff. I didn’t want him to know.”

“Are you sure about that? Don’t you want Hal beholding to you? Somehow, I thought that was part of the reason you helped Randy. Hal should be friendlier to you now. Why run from that?”

“I said mean things to him Saturday night, and he was nice to me. He helped me. I can’t face him.”

“Then you deserve to feel guilty, but that’s no reason to leave now. What do you think he’ll do? Shoot you?”

Hal sauntered into the kitchen. Bertha broke away from Rick who stepped back from the door but didn’t open it.

“When will supper be ready?” Hal asked as he nibbled a piece of celery.

“As soon as you call the kids.” Her eyes ordered Rick to stay as she opened the oven.

“Better go get washed up, kid,” Hal said, almost too casually, to Rick. “Bertha doesn’t allow any dirty hands at her table.” Hal walked back to the swinging door. “Dodie! Randy! Gwen! Let’s eat!”

Rick and Bertha were never quite sure how much of their conversation Hal had heard, if any.

The youngsters rushed in from the living room as Bertha directed Rick to her bathroom to wash up. Dodie and Randy could hardly wait for their guest to reappear. With a great amount of clatter, they sat down at the table with Rick between the youngsters.

Rick was nervous during the meal and barely ate. Hal was solicitous and at ease, but that only seemed to make Rick more jittery. He mumbled short answers to Hal’s questions about Randy’s exercises. Hal’s hoped for friendliness only agitated Rick. He escaped as soon as he’d eaten a small portion of peach cobbler.

Dodie, who’d waited so long for Rick to eat with them, was peeved at him for paying no attention to her during the meal. Not realizing his silence was caused by Hal’s presence, she thought Rick was deliberating shunning her. She decided that the only reason he’d ever returned to her house was because he liked Randy. By the time supper ended and Rick disappeared, Dodie had become a monster again.

“No, I don’t want to watch that stupid kiddy show!” Dodie yelled as she stomped upstairs.

Hal looked perplexed. “I thought she liked puppets. I wish someone would tell me what’s going on with her tonight.”

“Growing pains, most likely,” Bertha observed, but she knew that it was because Dodie had felt slighted by Rick.

 

By Tuesday afternoon after school, Rick felt pretty sheepish about the way he’d acted at the Endicott’s. As he walked toward their house, he hoped they’d let him apologize.

Rick heard the ambulance before he saw it. He ran the last block to the Endicott home and was in time to see the screaming ambulance follow the sheriff’s car as they both disappeared around the corner leading to the highway.

Forgetting all propriety, Rick burst into the Endicott kitchen without knocking. “What happened?!”

Bertha was clearly distraught. Her normally dark face was pale and her lips were compressed. She nervously clutched a handkerchief in her big hands.

“I saw an ambulance leaving. Is someone sick?” Rick demanded.

Bertha’s eyes were hollow with dread. “It’s Mrs. Endicott. Hal had to send her to a hospital.” She stared at Rick. “A, a mental hospital.”

“I thought she was paralyzed with polio.”

“She is.” Bertha wrung her handkerchief and paced as she babbled. “Margo’s left leg is totally useless. You have to consider what that would do to a beautiful woman. The polio seemed to cripple her mind as well as her body. For some reason, she blamed Hal for the disease because she contracted it while she was pregnant with Randy. Hal had always wanted a son, and somehow she associated her illness with the dominant male. Hal isn’t that way at all. He’s always been very considerate of her. But she thought the crippling of her body was a sacrifice she had to make so his son could be born. Hal knew she was having mental problems but refused to take her to a hospital. He tried to take care of her himself, and it did work for awhile because I was here. Of course, she had her bad days that seemed to come more frequently since Lori’s death. When that happened, Margo cursed Hal and damned him to eternal Hell fire. He took an awful lot of verbal abuse from that woman, but he couldn’t bear to send her away to strangers. He loves her so much he didn’t care how much she hurt him. But, today, she tried to hurt one of the children. Randy got into her room and….”

Rick paled. “Randy?! Where is he? Did she hurt him?”

“No. I heard him screaming and got to him in time. He’s in his room now, asleep. Gwen is watching him. Poor little tyke! His mother was trying to choke him or smother him, I don’t know which. I grabbed him and called Hal. When the girls got home from school, Doctor Murphy was here waiting for the ambulance.”

“But why should she want to hurt Randy?”

“Because his legs were getting better. She was jealous of his new ability to run. You’ve never seen her from outside, but she apparently watched you and the kids playing from her bedroom window. And last night’s triumph was the final straw. With Randy stronger, Margo was the only cripple in the house. She tried to change that today.”

“I never thought something like that would happen….”

“Nobody did, so don’t blame yourself. Who knew she’d try to harm her own child? That’s why Hal finally gave in and sent her to the hospital. But, oh, it hurt him to do it. When he left, he was trying so hard not to cry. I wish you could’ve gotten here quicker. He needed to have someone go along with him. The way she was yelling and cursing at him when they left would tear the heart out of any man, especially the man who loved her. And poor little Dodie! She just stood there and watched as they trussed up her mother and hauled her away. Dodie was terrified. Her eyes got as big as saucers, and she didn’t say anything for the longest time.” Bertha bit her lips together. “I think she blames her father for her mother going away.”

“Where is Dodie?”

“Out in back. She won’t come inside. She won’t even talk to me.”

“I’ll go see what she’s doing.” Rick patted her hand. “It’ll be okay.” He felt like he had to be the strong one now. He reached up and kissed her cheek. He didn’t know how else to tell her he cared.

Bertha grabbed him in an embrace, then pushed him away. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she seemed to have collected the loose ends of her courage together. She smoothed down her dress with impatient hands. “I’ll got see about Randy now. Then I have to think about supper.” She dabbed at her eyes, then shoved her hankie away with a defiant air. “Yes. Supper. Maybe I‘ll put together some beef stew. That‘s a favorite.” The routine chores of an ordinary day brought order back to a chaotic situation, and she stepped forward with a firm stride.

In the backyard, Rick found Dodie bouncing her hard rubber ball against the garage. Her dark eyes reflected flinty anger as she methodically threw and caught the ball. She didn’t seem to notice the sting in her hands from the slaps of the hard rubber.

“How about throwing it to me, small fry?”

Dodie glared at him, but continued her one-person game.

“Don’t you want to play with me tonight? It’d be a lot easier on the wood and paint if you did. Your dad doesn’t want another door on this side of the garage.”

“I don’t CARE what he wants!” She threw the ball as hard as she could at Rick.

He caught it one-handed. It stung, but he smiled amiably as he tossed the ball back to her. “I thought you could throw harder than that.”

The ball hurtled back like a bullet. Rick grabbed it with both hands. “Not bad. But I can see you’ll need a lot more practice before you can throw like a boy.” He threw the ball as slowly as he could. “Here’s an easy one. I don’t want to hurt you any, because, you know, you’re just a girl.”

Dodie’s eyes flared. She aimed the ball for Rick’s stomach, and Rick had to be pretty agile so a hole wouldn’t be torn through his midsection.

Rick tossed the ball up in the air and caught it several times. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you ever want to touch me with this.” He bent slightly and rolled the ball along the ground to her. “Careful now. You might injure yourself.”

Dodie angrily ran forward to catch the ball. But as she reached down to snatch it up, she accidentally kicked it and sent it skittering across the yard. As she chased it, Rick’s taunting laughter followed her. Dodie burned with indignation. She scooped up the ball and charged Rick. With her lips compressed together in determination, she ran with the ball clutched above her right shoulder.

With a mocking grin on his face, Rick watched the irate child approach. When he saw that she was going to hurl the ball, he jogged out of reach. She followed. He stopped, waited, and then ran again.

Dodie stopped. Her face was flushed and she was close to tears. “Darn you! Stand still.”

“Alright.” He shifted his weight to one hip. “But it won’t help you any. You still can’t hit me.”

Dodie panted as she marched toward him with the ball poised over her shoulder. Then, she drew back her arm and let fly with all her might.

At the last second, Rick sidestepped the ball, which whistled harmlessly past him and landed in the spirea bush. The Benson’s water spaniel, asleep on the other side of the bush, yelped in pain and ran away.

“Ha! Ha! Missed!”

“Why, you!” Dodie flew at him with her fists churning.

Rick held up his hands and easily fended off her blows. He grinned to show her that her futile efforts weren’t harming him any, and she got madder. He backed slowly as her fists chopped and chopped away at him, trying to find a way past his protecting hands.

“Why don’t you stand still?!”

“Do you think I’m dumb enough to let you hit me? Nobody’s going to let you do that, Dodie. Nobody’s going to cater to you or feel sorry for you. Who do you think you are, anyway?”

“I hate you! I hate you!” she screamed.

“You’ll have to fight harder than that to whip a world that wants to hurt you.”

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

“Go away? How? Like your mama did?”

“Shut up! Leave her out of this!” She fought her tears back and socked him some more.

“Why? Where’d she go, Dodie? Where did Pops take her?”

“I don’t have to tell you!”

The picnic table pushed against the back of Rick’s legs. “You have to tell me, Dodie. You have to face it. Hitting the garage with that ball won’t help. You can’t hide from the truth.” His hands settled lightly on her shoulders. She’d stopped slugging and was merely flinging her arms about. “What happened?”

Dodie dropped her arms to her sides and stared at her feet. “He, he took her away.” She looked up, and tears stood in her dark eyes. “He took her to a hospital.”

“Why did he do that? Why did he do that, Dodie?”

“Because he hates her!”

“You know better than that. Your daddy’s done everything he can for your mother. But she’s sick, Dodie. And it isn’t your daddy’s fault that she is. I know you’ve heard her cursing him, but that was just her illness talking. If she were well, she’d regret those words. She wouldn’t make you think you had to choose which parent you had to support. In other words, Dodie, you don’t have to hate him.”

Dodie’s eyes widened.

“It hurts your dad to have to take her away from all of you, but he’s trying to help her. He’s thinking of her welfare. She isn’t happy here anymore.”

“Then she hates him!”

He sat down at the picnic table and studied the young, defiant eyes seeking an answer. “We don’t know what she’s thinking. That’s why she went to the hospital. Maybe the doctors can help her to be happy again.”

Dodie fingered a rough spot on the denim jeans covering his knee. Her tears had dried up, and she’d wiped her draining nose with her hankie. “I don’t want Mama to yell at Pops anymore.” She looked into Rick’s eyes. “I want her back the way she used to be. She was always doing fun things with me and Lori. I know Lori can’t come back, but maybe me and Randy could play with Mama.” Her eyes sparkled with hope. “We could all have fun again.”

“We don’t know if that will be possible, Dodie. We don’t know how sick your mother is. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Hope burned out of her eyes. “You lied to me!”

“I haven’t, either. I’ve been as honest with you as I can. I wouldn’t let you hope for something that just might not happen. You’ll have to be a big girl about this.”

Dodie’s arms started flaying the air again. “I hate you! I hate you!”

He made no effort to stop her punches that landed on his chest and shoulders. Her anger was directed at him now, instead of Hal. Now, he deserved his punishment. Even blows to the arm bruised on Saturday night only made him grimace and not protect himself. Instead, he looked at her sadly.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Dodie. I’m sorry you hate me. Friends shouldn’t say such things to each other. That hurts worse than your fists on my sore arm.” He frowned, knowing he was being forced to make a commitment. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

Dodie looked startled and stopped punching Rick who returned her searching look as earnestly as he could. Her drawn fist straightened into a hand that gingerly touched his cheek.

“I thought you loved Randy.”

“I do, but I love you, too.” He breathed deeply, glad that he’d told her. It seemed to be important to her. “There’s no limit to the number of people you can love at any one time.”

“Nobody else loves me.”

“Yes, they do. Or they would if you gave them the chance.”

She searched his eyes. “Even Mama and Daddy?”

“Especially your mama and daddy. It’s because of their love for each other that you’re here. That makes you pretty special to them, don’t you think?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled against his chest as he cradled her in his arms.

“Your mama left you, too, didn’t she?”

Rick paused before he answered. “Yes.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you cry because she’s gone?”

Dodie didn’t see Rick pinch his eyes shut. “Yes.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“No.”

Dodie trembled. “I’m scared.”

“I get scared, too, honey. That’s why I need friends to help me when I’m lonely and afraid. Will you be my friend?”

She nodded and hugged him tightly.

Rick held her quietly and after a few minutes realized she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. He shielded her from a rising wind and watched the sun set in a blaze of autumn red and gold. When the evening grew too chilly for comfort, he carried her inside the house.

Bertha held the back door open. “I saw you coming. I didn’t know what was going on out there, but I didn’t want to disturb anything. Put her on the sofa and have some supper. Gwen and Randy have already eaten.”

Rick deposited Dodie on the sofa. But as soon as he released her, she began thrashing around and whimpering, “Rick! Rick!”

“I’m here, Dodie. I’m here. I won’t leave you.” He shucked his flight boots and athletic jacket and wiggled into the space between the back of the couch and Dodie. “That way she can have plenty of room to kick around,” he explained as he drew his left arm around her shoulders.

With a sigh, Dodie relaxed in the circle of his arm and lay her head on Rick’s chest.

“But you haven’t had any supper!” Bertha protested.

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry. Besides, she needs me here, Bertha.”

And Rick needed Dodie to need him, too. Bertha could see that in the young eyes shining with tenderness and responsibility.

“Alright. I’ll throw a blanket over the two of you. Holler if you need anything.”

 

It was past midnight when Hal Endicott returned home. Bertha was waiting for him in the kitchen. A game of solitaire was spread out before her on the table. She pushed the cards aside when Hal opened the door from the garage.

Hal looked tired and old and utterly dejected as he crumpled into a chair and slapped his hat on the table.

Bertha waited quietly for a few minutes, then she stood up and headed for the stove. “Would you like to have something to eat? I have lots of stew left over from supper.”

He shook his head. “I grabbed a tenderloin and fries in Choctaw,” he answered in a small voice. “Lost it on the way back.”

“You should get your stomach checked. You might have an ulcer.”

“No, it’s just this damned job,” he said bitterly. “This damned world.”

She waited again for him to speak, but he didn’t. “How was Margo when you left?” she finally asked.

“They had her sedated. She’s peaceful at last.” He put his hand to his eyes. “Oh, God, Bertha! It was like she was d-dead!” His voice strained on the last word and ended in a sob. His shoulders lurched rhythmically.

Bertha stopped behind his chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. His free hand reached up and grabbed hers.

“Thank God for you, Bertha,” he said after he’d regained his composure and wiped his face. “How are the kids?”

“Gwen’s staying with Randy. We put up a cot for her in his room. I think he’s too young to remember very much.”

“Poor little guy! I shouldn’t have put him in such danger. Margo should’ve gone to a hospital right away, but I was too stubborn to listen to you and Doc Murphy.”

“You did what you thought was right, and nobody can blame you for that. You gave her a few extra months with her family, and she had her lucid days when she enjoyed being here. You did all you could for her.”

He managed a faint smile. “You should’ve been a minister. I feel better already. How about Dodie? She looked pretty upset when I left, but I didn’t have the time to explain things. Did you talk to her?”

“No, she refused to listen to me.”

“Poor kid! She’s probably still upset. I better go see how she is.”

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I think everything’s okay. Rick talked to her and….”

“Medina?! What did he tell her?”

“I don’t know. They were outside, playing some sort of ballgame. Dodie was mad at the world and tried to take it out on Rick, but he managed to get her calmed down someway. They’re asleep on the sofa now.”

“Medina’s here?!”

“She wouldn’t let loose of him. They haven’t eaten yet, but they’ll keep till morning. Dodie may be feeling better by then.”

“Well, sounds like everything’s under control here. There’s not much else I can do tonight, anyway. Guess I’ll go to bed and check on Dodie on my way through.”

“Then you don’t mind if Rick stayed?”

“Seems like Dodie decided that for us, didn’t she? Don’t let him out of here without getting something to eat, if you can. Doc says Medina needs to put on weight, but he won’t eat around me. Maybe you can have more luck with him. He likes you.”

“You noticed that?”

‘I’m not blind, Bertha. I can see that he’s made friends with all of you. Right here in my own home, Lori’s home….”

“Was it wrong, Hal? He was lonely. And I guess we needed his friendship, too. Especially tonight.”

Hal sighed. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong, anymore. Things happen, crazy things. and I, I just don’t know. Lori died because of him. But sometimes, God forgive me, I forget. I look at him, and I can’t think of him as being a murderer. He’s just a kid. And not a bad kid at that. He isn’t the hoodlum I thought he was. But then I remember the wreck, and it just doesn’t make sense how he could ever hurt anyone….” He shook his head.

“You don’t mind if he comes around?”

“No, as long as he doesn’t cause any real harm. And how can I judge what’s bad? After what Margo said about me today….”

“You’re upset. Let things settle down. She might improve.”

“The doctor said.“ Hal frowned. “The doctor said, no.” He headed for the swinging door.

“Good night, Hal, and, I’m sorry about Margo.”

He nodded. “We tried.”

Hal groped through the semi-dark living room lit only by the reading lamp over his favorite armchair. The sleeping pair on the sofa were swathed in an old Army blanket. Dodie still snuggled against Rick’s chest.

They both seemed so innocent and young, Hal thought as he gazed down at them. Dodie looked contented. Hal didn’t know what Rick had said to her, but he was grateful. He bent and pulled the covers up around their shoulders.

Dodie opened her eyes. “Pops!” She struggled to rise.

“Shh! You’ll wake Rick up.”

Dodie glanced at Rick, then at Hal. “Help me out, Pops. I want to talk to you.”

Hal gently lifted Rick’s left arm, and Dodie sat up. He laid Rick’s arm carefully across his chest and straightened the blanket again.

Hal squatted. “Now, what was so important it couldn’t wait until morning?”

She smiled at him. “Just this.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love you, Pops. And I know you sent Mama to the hospital because you love her and want to help her get well, if she can.”

Hal sat motionless for a moment, then pulled his arms around her. A great weight seemed to lift from his heart, and he felt refreshed. “Oh, baby, you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that. I’ve been so worried that you’d blame me for something I couldn’t prevent.” He kissed her cheek. “Thank you for telling me, honey. I’m glad you understand.”

She shrugged. “Oh, Rick explained it all to me.”

Hal stroked her blonde hair. “Then we have a lot to thank him for, don’t we?”

Rick flopped on his right side and shoved his face into the back of the sofa.

Hal and Dodie held their breaths and stared at Rick’s back.

“I don’t think we woke him up,” Hal whispered. “He just turned over. Come on. We can go up to my room and talk. I want to hear more about what he told you. We won’t disturb him up there. Besides, I’d like to have you up there with me. I feel kinda lonely tonight.”

“Won’t Rick miss me?”

“Not until morning. Don’t worry. He’ll understand.”

Dodie watched Hal tuck the blanket under Rick’s back again. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed Rick’s cheek.

Hal dove to stop her. “Don’t do that, honey! You’ll wake him up!” Off balance, he caught himself by grabbing Rick’s shoulder and leaning heavily on Rick’s back. It was almost an embrace.

“No, I won’t. See? He’s still asleep. He didn’t move.”

“Small wonder,” Hal mumbled. “I nearly crushed him. Hope I didn’t hurt his sore arm.” He gently patted Rick’s left shoulder. “Thanks for everything, kid. Sleep well. Let’s go, Dodie.”

They tiptoed across the room and up the stairs. Soon, all was quiet again in the Endicott house.

The couch’s springs protested as Rick turned on his back and opened his eyes. He flung his left arm over his forehead and stared at the ceiling. Silent tears flowed down his cheeks. He didn’t really know what he was crying about. The tears simply ran.

He’d awakened when he heard Hal say his name, and that puzzled him because Hal never called him by his first name. Years of pretending sleep to a drunken father had trained him not to open his eyes when disturbed. And when he heard what Dodie and Hal were talking about, he couldn’t let them know he was eavesdropping until he got embarrassed and hid his face in the back of the sofa.

A strong feeling of homesickness had flowed through him as he listened to their whispering together. He wanted to share their family warmth, but he knew he was an outsider.

Rick also knew he was partly responsible for Margo’s being sent away, and he felt guilty about it. But the midnight talkers had nothing but praise for him, and that created ambivalent feelings in him. He didn’t want to need their gratitude, yet he desperately yearned for it.

But it was more than his guilt and their warm acceptance that had upset him so greatly. Hal had touched him. Physically, Hal had laid his hands on Rick. First, on Saturday, and then just now. And once that long ago night when Lori had died. That memory had haunted him ever since. And Rick, who craved bodily contact, was suddenly yearning for Hal to hold and comfort him. His back still tingled where Hal had pressed against him. He wanted Hal’s arms around him again.

Rick moaned aloud and bit the back of his hand to stop the sound. Now he knew what caused his tears. He wanted Hal to be his father.

It was insanity!

Hal hated him. And at best, Hal tolerated him. How could Rick dare to turn to Hal? 

Because Rick needed someone and that someone seemed to be Hal Endicott. But Hal wouldn’t! Couldn’t! There was no way that Hal could ever be what Rick needed.

A sob choked in Rick’s throat, and he stuffed his fist in his mouth. No one could hear him, but he couldn’t bear to hear the noise himself. Then he might have to admit that he was lonely.

He tossed the blanket aside. He had to get away from this house!

Rick crawled off the sofa, dressed, and stumbled in the semidarkness toward the kitchen. He was startled to see Bertha tidying up the kitchen.

“Why, Rick! What are you doing up?”

“Sorry, Bertha. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know you were awake.

“I was on my way to bed. I waited up for Hal. He just went through. Maybe he woke you up.”

“Maybe.”

“Where’s Dodie?”

Rick motioned toward the living room. “She’s not in there anymore.”

“Maybe she went upstairs with Hal. They’ve got a lot to get straightened out.” She reached for a soup bowl. “Do you want something to eat now? I can warm this stew up in a minute. It was pretty tasty, if I must say so myself. And there‘s lots left. Nobody seemed to have much of an appetite.”

“No, thanks. I have to go home.”

“Home?! Why, it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning and freezing cold outside. Have some stew and go back to bed on the couch.”

“I have to check on my father. He might be wondering where I am. See you.” He ducked out the door before she could stop him.

Bertha considered telling Hal to go after Rick and at least drive him home, but her better judgment told her not to disturb Hal and Dodie.

Bertha remembered to turn off the reading lamp in the living room. As she passed the sofa, she noticed a discoloration on the pillow. She touched it and felt the dampness of fresh tears. She lifted an eyebrow. That explained a lot.

Outside, Rick stood on the street corner and shuddered in the stiff, cold wind. One upstairs window in the Endicott’s big, old, square house glowed where a single light still burned. It looked so warm and friendly. Hal’s bedroom. Rick knew that was where Hal and Dodie sat talking.

Rick hoped they reached an understanding. And he hoped they forgot that they owed much of that understanding to him. He didn’t want their gratitude. He didn’t want Hal to owe him anything.

He felt like such a martyr.

Pulling the collar up on his jacket, Rick plunged into the bitterly cold night and turned his back on the warm, snug Endicott home.

He wondered if the empty gnawing inside himself would ever go away now.

The courthouse clock showed one as he let himself into his empty house. His father was gone again, as usual. Rick hoped God would forgive his little white lies to Bertha.

He couldn’t spend the rest of the night with people who confused him so much. At least here, in this unfriendly house, he knew where he stood. He and his father avoided each other as much as possible. Everything was cut and dry.

With Hal Endicott, Rick was particularly mixed-up. Hal had acted and spoken differently to Rick when he thought Rick was asleep. He’d seemed like another person tonight, someone Rick could like.

No, Rick finally forced himself to admit. Hal was someone he DID like.

Rick slumped on the battered living room sofa and stared at the uncarpeted floor checkered with light from the street lamp. There, alone in an empty house in the darkness of night, he could face the truth.

He didn’t want to like Hal, not as much as he suddenly suspected he did. That would only bring him sorrow. Rick had loved his Grandpa Wakely, but he’d died. Rick had loved his mother and brother, but they weren’t around anymore. And Rick had loved his father, especially his father. But Bert daily crushed that love with drunkenness and abuse. For Rick, love meant suffering. Even the girl he loved had died.

He couldn’t let himself be hurt like that again. He had to bring his relationship with the Endicotts back to a non-personal basis.

But Rick knew it was only one of the Endicotts that he was scared of liking. Only one of them could kill him inwardly as his father had done. There might be grave danger in loving the other Endicotts, but Hal could break his heart. All Hal had to do to hurt him was to push him away.

No, a small voice objected inside him. All Hal had to do to hurt him was to like him. It was tonight’s warmth and concern that had frightened Rick, not Hal’s hatred or indifference. Hal’s liking him scared him because he’d hurt so badly when Hal stopped liking him. Something always happened if somebody liked him.

You’re not afraid he dislikes you, the small voice nagged at him. You’re afraid he does like you.

Rick shuddered. The small voice was right.

 

Wednesday through Saturday stretched into four lonely days for Rick. He had to restrain himself from walking to the Endicott home after school, but it became easier to do after the first quiet afternoon. He breathed deeply and knew he’d survive if he avoided them completely. All he had to worry about were three-and-a-half brief hours each Saturday night with Hal. But Rick realized he could survive those, too, by drawing within himself. Knowing Hal, he wouldn’t be disturbed. The evenings might be a little quiet and boring, but they’d eventually pass. Then he’d be free of the Endicotts forever.

Rick wouldn’t allow himself to recall how he’d felt about them. But sometimes the emotion caught him off-guard and gripped him so tightly, he couldn’t breathe. Somehow, he managed to fight his feelings back into their proper cages in the furthest corners of his mind. He vowed not to let them escape again. That became easier to do with time, too. 

Tuesday and Margo’s departure seemed like a hallucination. Some special kind of insanity must’ve possessed all of them that night. Nobody had acted the way he should’ve. Maybe that’s why Rick had given into his absurd liking for Hal, a liking he hadn’t been fully aware of himself until then. Before, there’d just been the respect.

Rick even understood the dream he’d had the night Lori died. The man he was trying to reach behind the star was Hal. Ever since he first met Lori, Rick had envied her for having a father she could depend on. Lori had taken Hal for granted, but Rick had always been in awe of him. And learning his weaknesses and troubles only made him seem more human and vulnerable to Rick. But Hal had never lost his greatness in Rick’s eyes. And only one thing kept Hal from being perfect to Rick and that was his devotion to the law, the star that separated him from Rick in the dream.

 

At school on Wednesday, Rick avoided Gwen who thought nothing was wrong. By Thursday, she was curious because he hadn’t shown up on Wednesday night. But when she tried to speak to him between classes, he brushed her aside. On Friday, an injured look in her eyes indicated she was too meek to offer unwanted friendship again.

Rick remembered that meek, injured face as he tried to fill the long, lonely hours of Saturday. He launched a house cleaning campaign so he wouldn’t have time to think. But Gwen’s eyes kept haunting him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but that was the price she paid for being an Endicott. He’d enjoyed her friendship of the past few weeks, though. And it saddened him to know that he had to end their relationship. They had problems in common, and he was going to miss her understanding.

Rick glanced out the window he was washing. All that sunshine depressed him, too. After several days of chilly rain, October flashed her harsh, deceivably warm smile, and the skies cleared. The forecast called for a cold night. But the afternoon was beautiful, just perfect for a touch football game in the Endicott’s backyard.

Rick couldn’t let himself think of that. He attacked the house and gave it an unusually thorough cleaning. There wasn’t much furniture to dust or sweep behind, though. His father had sold most of the extra pieces to buy alcohol. They had only the barest living essentials left. Except for Rick’s room. Bart never touched the boys’ furnishings. He’d purchased the matching pieces for his sons during one of their few happy years in California. Perhaps the furniture reminded him of those golden days before he got hurt and his family split up. Maybe he hoped his sons would remember those days, too.

It was because of those wonderful memories of California that Rick stayed with his father. Bert had been fun then, more like an older brother as he’d romped and played with Casey and Rick. It was Wanda who always had to punish the boys for being naughty. Bert couldn’t bear to make them cry, back then. Except if were drinking, and then he thought nothing of striking them without mercy.

One of Rick’s earliest recollections was of being knocked flat after he’d begged his drunken father to play with him. Surprised, Rick started crying, and his father hit him again. Bert would’ve struck Rick a third time, but Wanda grabbed him and carried him into a bedroom where Bert couldn’t hear his screams. She tried to explain to him in toddler terms that Daddy should be avoided sometimes. That’s when Rick learned to stay out of Bert’s way when he was drinking.

Of course, Bert was sorry he’d struck Rick. When he sobered up, he tried to coax Rick onto his lap. But the toddler had learned his lesson too well. He wanted nothing to do with his father. Rick always remembered the pain in Bert’s eyes when Rick wouldn’t go to him. And for the first time, Rick experienced the perverse pleasure of a battered person’s revenge. He had the power to cause suffering in his father, too.

Bert tried everything, including a trip to the zoo, before Rick would accept him again. When he did, Bert was touchingly grateful and tears shone in his eyes. But that experience still didn’t stop him from threatening to strike the boys the next time he got drunk.

Rick learned he had to accept Bert on Bert’s terms. But somewhere in the back of Rick’s mind lurked a hope that someday Bert would become the father he always wanted. Rick didn’t want a permissive parent who was afraid of the responsibility of guiding his sons. And Rick certainly didn’t need the abusive, drunken maniac who menaced him verbally and physically. If only Bert could become the fine example of a man Rick could respect and copy. Someone who took an interest in him. Someone who expected something out of him and kept after him until he did it. 

Someone like Hal Endicott.

Rick stopped mopping the kitchen floor. He’d been rudely jarred back into the present from his daydream. What was the use of hoping? Bert would never change. He preferred the security of a beer bottle. And like it or not, Bert Medina was Rick’s father, not Hal Endicott.


	11. The Flu

Rick dreaded Saturday night when he had to see Hal again. But at ten till seven, Rick stood in front of the sheriff’s house. The squad car was parked in the driveway, so that meant Endicott was waiting for him inside.

Rick shivered. His thin jacket was no match for the cold night. But he was apprehensive about going into the warm house and facing the Endicotts. By now, they’d all be wondering where he’d been.

The front door opened and Dodie called, “Come on in!”

Rick couldn’t see her behind the screen, and she didn’t look up until she closed the door. Her eyes were cautious when she peeked up at him.

A quick glance showed that he and Dodie were alone in the living room.

“It’s too cold for you to be outside,” she said softly. “I’ve been watching for you.”

Rick felt his throat constrict. “Thanks, small fry.” He hadn’t meant for that nickname to slip out, but he was rewarded with a smile.

Her solemn face relaxed, and she took his hand in hers. “I’m happy you’re finally here. Why didn’t you come to see me? I missed you.”

He shrugged. She was making it awfully difficult for him to keep his resolve about being impersonal to her family.

“Never mind. You’re here now. That’s all that counts.” Dodie, shy and glowing in her newfound love, smiled sweetly up at him. “I wish you could’ve been here this afternoon. We helped Pops rake leaves.”

At the mention of Hal, Rick felt a cold panic penetrate through him. All of his carefully laid plans of forgetting Hal had been traitorously dashed, and his emotions were as raw as they’d been on Tuesday night.

Roughly, he pulled his hand away from hers. “I was busy today,” he snapped. “I was doing something important.”

Her eyes looked hurt and guarded. “Oh,” she whispered.

Rick felt like kicking himself, but he kept a flinty look on his face. It was kinder to her to be aloof.

“Dodie!” Bertha barked behind them. The young people jumped and whirled to face her. “Go help Gwen with the dishes. I want to talk to Rick a moment.”

They saw the determination in Bertha’s steely eyes and heard the tone of finality in her voice. No one argued with that tone.

Dodie ran around Bertha and disappeared into the kitchen. But Bertha and Rick didn’t see her because Bertha’s eyes were holding his in a hypnotic glare.

“Won’t you have a chair?” she offered with the sweep of her hand. Her fierce eyes never left Rick’s, though, and he knew she had more than chairs on her mind. “The sheriff will be down in a minute.”

Rick sighed. Might as well get it over with. “You, ah, wanted to talk to me?”

She crossed her arms. “Ordinarily, I’d mind my own business. But I consider the Endicotts to be my family. So, in a way, this matter is my business.” Her eyes snapped.  
“Where have you been since Tuesday night?”

Rick shrugged. “School. Home. The usual.”

Bertha was trying hard to control her temper. “And why haven’t you been over here?”

“Randy’s legs are better now. I thought I shouldn’t be spending so much time here, that’s all.”

“That’s fine and dandy for you, young man! But what about the rest of us? You can’t worm your way into people’s lives, and then turn your back on them when it pleases you. Friends don’t do that to friends. You have an obligation to us.”

Rick frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Dodie!” It was more a cry of anguish than a statement. “You’ve about killed that child! When her mother went away, you were the one thread she found to cling to. She needed someone to help her to understand and to face what’d happened, and you gave her the right combination of tenderness and courage. She was disappointed you weren’t here Wednesday morning at breakfast, but she thought for sure you’d be over here right after school. All we heard Wednesday was how great you were. She slowed down a little in enthusiasm, but not in praise when you didn’t show up that night. Thursday, she was quieter. And yesterday, well, yesterday, she was almost mute. Today, she wouldn’t even watch her cartoon shows. She just moped around. We almost wished the monster side of her would return so she’d sound normal again. And this afternoon! Generally, the children enjoy helping Hal with the leaf raking. But today it was work, for everybody. But still, she kept a glimmer of hope and met you at the door tonight. And then you treated her the way you just did! You might as well have taken a knife to her heart!” She pinched her lips together. “I want to know why you disappointed that little girl for the last few days.”

In the silence that followed, Bertha glared at him with her steely eyes while Rick groped for an answer.

“I, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d take it this way.”

“The only one you thought about was yourself, wasn’t it? You’ve had no real contact with people in so long that you’ve forgotten that they’ve got feelings, too. You just wanted to protect yourself.”

“Was that so terrible? There’s no one else to help me, and you’ve all got each other.”

“That still doesn’t excuse you from treating Dodie the way you did. Sure, she’s a spoiled brat, I realize that. But I won’t let you hurt her. She’s got problems, too.”

“I’m sorry.” That’s all Rick could think to say.

“Tell her that. Wait.” Her voice softened. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. Guess it’s the Army discipline showing through. I think I know what your trouble is. It’s Hal again, isn’t it?”

“No!”

“You and Dodie were bunked down and very contented on the living room sofa last Tuesday night. Then, ten minutes after Hal came home, you left here and didn’t come back until now. It doesn’t take much of a detective to figure out that something he did that night upset you.”

“He didn’t upset me. I thought I wasn’t needed anymore, so I went on home.”

“Are you sure? Right after you left, I straightened the couch. I laid your pillow on top so it’d dry.”

Rick blinked. She knew he’d been crying.

“Maybe her leaving me alone bothered me,” he mumbled.

“In that case, you would’ve been over here Wednesday to win her back. No, Hal was the one who upset you, but I don’t know how.” She studied his bowed head. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry. But if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll be here. In the meantime, your problem is with the sheriff. Fight it out with him. Don’t take it out on the rest of us. It’s hard enough being in the middle between you two. Don’t ask us to choose sides.”

“That’s easy! You’d choose him. He’s part of the family.”

“But you’re our friend! Haven’t you ever had a friend? Don’t you know what friends are for?”

“I, I guess not.”

“Well, you’re about to learn. There’s three very confused youngsters out in that kitchen who don’t know what they did wrong to you….”

“To me?!”

“That’s right. Now, you and I both know better, don’t we? But they don’t. As I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can walk out of this house and never come back. They’ll forget you and the hurt you’ve caused them, in time. Or, you can go in that kitchen and apologize to them. I’ll be honest with you. It’d be easier to walk out the door. Friendship is difficult, but without it we’re lifeless.”

Rick chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the kitchen door. Then he took a step toward it.

“Hey, mister,” Bertha said with a rare smile. “I’m your friend, too. Welcome back.”

Rick managed to return her smile. “Thanks, Bertha,” he whispered. “Thanks for straightening me out.”

She firmly shoved him forward. “Get in that kitchen.”

His determination lasted until he pushed the swinging door open and saw them. Gwen was washing dishes and Dodie was drying. Randy stood between them. Rick stared at them, and they stared back. They didn’t seem angry. His determination returned. 

“Rick!” Randy crowed in delight, but Gwen grabbed him. Randy looked up at her, but he didn’t try to pull away.

Rick stood in the doorway, holding the swinging door open. He could feel Bertha’s presence behind him, but she didn’t have to worry. He was going to see this thing through.

Rick studied the three faces before him. Each was non-committal, but a secret hope lay in each pair of eyes.

Rick’s eyes finally rested on Dodie. She held her chin high, but her lips trembled. Why did he ever make her cry? How could he hurt her like this?

“I’m sorry, Dodie. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you. You did nothing wrong to me, but I sure treated you badly. Can you ever forgive me?”

With a delighted squeal, Dodie tossed aside her dishtowel and sprang toward him. Rick heard Bertha catch the swinging door as he stepped forward and bent to gather the little girl in his arms.

A shudder swept through him as Dodie’s arms gripped his neck. It was one of the sweetest moments he’d ever known. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. And he knew what he’d told her on Tuesday was true: he did love her.

“I thought you weren’t coming back, ever,” she sobbed against his neck.

He felt lightheaded as he awkwardly reassured her with his wooden arms. “I’m sorry, small fry. I’ll never stay away so long again. I couldn’t.” He tried to blink away an intense stinging in his eyes as his lips found her cheek.

Dodie searched his solemn face and touched his tears. “I thought you’d changed your mind about me. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend, after all.”

How could he tell her that his absence had nothing to do with his tender regard for her? How could he explain his ambivalent feelings toward her father when he didn’t understand them himself?

He couldn’t. But he could be her friend.

Feeling flowed back into his limbs, and he could feel Dodie in his arms. Precisely where she belonged.

Bertha was right. Just because Rick and Hal didn’t get along was no reason to punish innocent people whose only crime was liking both of them.

He touched her short, blonde hair. “We’ll never let anything come between us again, right?”

A small smile slowly crossed her lips as she gazed into his gentle eyes. “Right!” She threw her arms around his neck again.

Rick shut his eyes and enjoyed holding this beloved person close. Now he realized how dispirited, how lonesome, how discontented he’d felt since Wednesday morning. Those four days were nothing but a cold, bleak memory in which he’d found no comfort. He never wanted to feel that depressed again. He’d rather be dead.

But, happily, he’d found his salvation. Or, at least he’d found it with Bertha’s help. His answer lay with these golden people, his friends.

Randy pulled out of Gwen’s grasp and ran to Rick.

“Hi, hotshot.” Rick’s lips trembled as Randy’s arms fought for attention around his neck. “How have you been?” He grinned with pleasure as he held the two children.

His eyes met Gwen’s and locked. His smile faded as he saw her sad face. “Hi, Gwen. Sorry I didn’t speak to you at school. You’ll have to excuse me. It was just a mood I was in.”

Gwen smiled shyly. “That’s alright. Everyone gets moody.”

“Oh, make me more important to you than that,” he whispered softly. “You are to me, honey.”

Gwen gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened with surprised delight. “Oh, Rick!”

He rested his cheek on the top of Randy’s head and closed his eyes. “Don’t ever let me forget again what any of you mean to me. Without you, life wouldn’t be worth living.”

The kitchen quiet was broken only by an occasional sniff.

“Would you look at the time!” Bertha stirred them all out of their emotional displays. “It’s ten after seven. The sheriff’s never been this late for patrol. I wonder what he’s doing?” She left the kitchen to call him.

Rick untangled himself from children and stood. Gwen gave him a shy smile, and he winked back.

From the living room, they heard Bertha loudly blowing her nose. They glanced at each others' tears, laughed self-consciously, and dug for their own hankies.

“Maybe Pops is asleep. He didn’t feel too good today,” Dodie confided as she leaned against Rick’s leg. “We didn’t even finish raking the leaves.” She smiled engagingly at Rick. “Maybe you could help us tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

“I really wish you could. Pops may have to go to Springfield tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Then I’ll be more than glad to help.”

A look of understanding came into Gwen’s eyes, and Gwen laid aside her dishrag. “Let’s forget the dishes for awhile and visit with Rick. Dodie, you can play your new piano piece for him.”

The children were ecstatic to get out of the household chore. But Rick was more wary and wondered what was on Gwen’s mind. He’d seen her puzzled stare turn into understanding.

They were standing around the piano, listening to Dodie’s playing, when Bertha reappeared.

“He’ll be down a minute, Rick. He was asleep. Can you beat that?”

Dodie beamed. “Told you so!”

During the emotional reunion, Rick had forgotten his reluctance to face Hal again. But Bertha’s announcement washed new terror through him. And there was nowhere to hide or time left to prepare himself. Hal’s footsteps were approaching.

Hal stamped down the stairs, and Rick steeled himself for the encounter. His breathing became shallow and quick as he wet his dry lips and nervously watched the stairway. He dreaded seeing Hal, yet he knew he’d been waiting four days for this meeting.

The air became electric, and Rick knew everyone in the living room was watching that staircase. They shared his anxiety and anticipation.

The Hal appeared. He was merely a common, ordinary guy walking in his own home. The evening returned to normal. Rick heard Dodie rustling with her piano sheet music. Everyone started breathing regularly again, and even the house seemed to sigh in relief. They’d all caught Rick’s mood, and they thought that something oddly mysterious would happen. But when they saw Hal, he looked and acted natural, only more tired and a little older. Otherwise, he was the same, familiar, comfortable Hal. There was nothing strange about him to ruin their routine.

Only Rick’s eyes continued to follow Hal’s descent. Rick held his breath and wondered if Hal would treat him any differently after Tuesday night.

Hal squeezed the banister as he gingerly claimed each step. He acted as if he were walking on eggs as he crossed the living room. Staring ahead with bleary eyes, he reached for his Stetson on its peg. His sparse hair was rumpled, and he looked at nobody in particular as he headed for the front door. “Come on, Medina. Let’s go.”

Rick couldn’t believe Hal’s indifference. Perhaps Tuesday night hadn’t happened. Perhaps Rick had only imagined it.

Gwen’s eyes caught Rick’s, and Gwen gave him a look of compassion. She knew. After watching his reaction to seeing Hal, she realized Rick’s only problem lay with her uncle. Now she understood why Rick hadn’t spoken to her at school. But it involved Hal, not her.

Rick saw no pity in Gwen’s eyes, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him.

Hal paused at the door. “Are you coming?” he growled.

Rick grabbed the thermos of coffee from Bertha and quickly followed him.

Dodie and Randy turned on the TV and became engrossed with a movie.

Like a conspirator, Gwen edged toward Bertha.

“What’s going on between Rick and Uncle Hal?”

“Same old problem, but Rick’s added some new twist to it. What, I don’t know. But it kept him away for four days.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Anyway, I told him in no uncertain terms that we didn’t enjoy being pawns in their fight.”

Gwen mouthed the word, ‘Oh.’ “But that still doesn’t keep us out of the middle, does it?”

Bertha raised a bushy brow. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

Outside, Hal huddled in his leather jacket as he stamped stiff-legged across his front yard. “Damned cold weather,” he muttered to himself.

Rick stumbled along obediently, but his head was whirling. This couldn’t be the same man who’d been so gentle with him on Tuesday night! Here again was the same short-tempered, humorless lawman who’d chased Honeysuckle Rose. It was as if the last month had never passed.

Rick felt a familiar coldness settle in his heart. Moments before, he’d almost forgotten that feeling with the warm friendship that the other Endicotts had given him. But that didn’t count now. Hal was the one he had to ride with.

As soon as the cruiser started down the street, the sheriff reached for the radio mike. “Mobile One starting patrol.” He hung the mike back on the dash.

“Where have you been, Mobile One?”

With a heavy sigh, Hal grabbed the mike. “Got a slow start, George. Let’s can the chatter and tend to business. Mobile One clear.”

Rick couldn’t believe it! How could Hal treat George Adams that way?! Why, George was his friend! And from what Rick had seen of Hal’s circle of friends, Hal couldn’t afford to lose any.

Haw saw Rick’s suppressed anger in the youth’s tightly crossed arms and the stubbornness in his flashing eyes. Great! With all of his other problems, Medina was going to be difficult. Maybe Hal should thank Rick for helping Tuesday, but he wasn’t in the mood. Besides, his gratitude would probably fall on deaf ears. Rick was making it very clear that he liked Hal’s family, but not Hal. Otherwise, Rick wouldn’t have been sneaking behind Hal’s back to see his family. And Rick’s happy face wouldn’t have frozen a few moments ago when Hal joined the group. As out of sorts as had Hal felt, he hadn’t missed noticing that.

For Hal, four long, hard days had passed since Margo had been taken away. He’d been too busy to miss her, except late at night when the house felt lonely without her. Rick Medina hadn’t crossed his mind. As for Rick’s absence from his house, Hal couldn’t miss what he wasn’t used to seeing. Besides, his job had kept him away from home a lot.

First, Hal had to direct traffic at a funeral and got soaking wet in a driving rain. Then old man Ferguson lost himself up in the hills. And the search for the mixed-up great-grandfather lasted most of one freezing, cold night.

A siege of influenza was starting in Beardsley, and several people were already down with it. 

Hal knew he had it.

But he wouldn’t give into the sickness. Instead, he pretended good health to Bertha who would’ve immediately put him to bed. Hal threw aspirin down his throat and fought off the illness for three days. Saturday afternoon, he raked leaves instead of resting. By nighttime, he was cross-eyed with fever and exhaustion. But he had to see this patrol out, and it wasn’t going to be easy because Rick Medina seemed to have a chip on his shoulder tonight. Hal thought Tuesday night might’ve softened Medina up a little since Rick had been so good to Hal’s family. But Rick’s attitude toward Hal hadn’t seemed to change, though.

Because of his sickness, Hal decided to be very cautious with his driving. His eyes weren’t seeing too well.

“What’s wrong, Sheriff?” Rick goaded, still angry with him. “Saving wear and tear on the car? We’re going ten miles an hour.”

“Shut up with that lip,” Hal ordered and shook his head to clear it. He wiped a hand over his sweaty face.

Rick saw that Hal was in trouble and lost his smart aleck attitude. “Are you okay?”

“Never felt better!”

“Are you sure you should be out here?”

“I’ll let you know when I can’t do my job!”

“No, I mean. You don’t look so good.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

Hal considered him an aggravation, so Rick quieted, but he didn’t relax. He couldn’t, not with Hal acting so strangely.

They drove slowly for a few blocks. Hal shook his head again, but it did him no good. His eyes felt like they were burning out of his head, and his body ached all over. Even his hair hurt.

The patrol car crept away from a stop sign, right into the path of an oncoming vehicle. The other driver honked and managed to swerve out of Hal’s way. Hal hadn’t seemed really conscious of the other car’s presence.

“You’re going to kill us!” Rick yelled.

Hal pulled over to the curb and rested his head on the steering wheel. “I can’t go any further,” he mumbled. “I’m sick.”

Rick was stunned. Gone were his anger and belligerency. He felt helpless, not knowing what to do. Someone like Hal was never supposed to give into illness. Rick thought a cop simply went on and on forever, feeling nothing. Hal was The Law, not a person.

Other thoughts raced though Rick’s mind as he watched the man who was suddenly human to him again. Rick, hurt and angered from Hal’s recent indifference, now had the sheriff at his mercy. He could really make a goat out of him. And it was a tempting thought, especially after the way that Hal had just mean-mouthed him. But the sheriff would eventually get well, and then there’d be hell to pay.

But fear wasn’t what stopped Rick. Revenge wasn’t worth losing the friendship of the other Endicotts, and he would if he tormented this defenseless man. Besides, he couldn‘t be mean to Hal. Rick liked him too much.

Then Hal moaned, and Rick got scared. He reached for the radio mike. “I’ll call for help.”

“Not that,” Hal mumbled.

“But, if you’re sick….”

“It’s that damn flu that’s going around. Damn it! All you kids will probably take it now.”

“Shall I call George and have him pick us up?”

“No. We have to keep on patrol. You drive.”

“But….”

“Come on, kid. Don’t argue tonight. Just drive.”

Rick knew Hal wasn’t thinking straight, but it’d be wrong to disagree with him. Who knew what would happen if Hal got angry in his fevered condition and kept driving?

Pulling Hal to his side of the car required all of Rick’s strength, because Hal was almost dead weight and couldn’t help himself very much. He landed with a soft moan against Rick’s shoulder and shoved his burning face into the relative coolness of Rick’s neck. He shivered, then sighed and relaxed.

Again, as in his dream, Rick thrilled to his close contact with Hal. But his joy turned to concern when he gazed at the man huddled against him. Hal’s eyes were closed, his breath came in short gasps, his sweaty face was drained of blood, and his body shook with chills.

“Oh, Lord,” Rick whispered. He touched Hal’s shoulder with his right hand, then closed his eyes and pressed himself against Hal. He’d often held his sick father the same way in his arms when Bert’s illness frightened him.

“Don’t die,” Rick begged. “I need you.” Their cheeks touched. “Let me help you,” he pleaded in Hal’s ear. “Take my strength.” He pulled Hal closer. “Don’t leave me. Stay here.”

The half-conscious Hal struggled against Rick’s tight embrace, and Rick pulled away to give him breathing room. Hal rallied some as if he’d actually gotten strength from Rick. But Hal still suffered intensely from his illness, and his twisted face reflected his struggles.

Rick gently stroked Hal’s cheek. “Let me take you home,” he whispered. “You’re sick. You can’t work tonight.”

“No.” Hal rolled his head on Rick’s arm. “Help me. Please. Help me.”

Rick smiled bitterly. “That proves how sick you are. You don’t even know who I am. If you did, you wouldn’t want my help.”

Hal focused his bleary eyes on Rick. “You’re Rick Medina. Now, help me. And what the hell do you have a hold of me for? Get behind the wheel, and drive.”

Rick eased Hal against the cushion, ran around the car, and crawled into the driver’s seat. “Are you sure you want me to do this? You look terrible.”

“Yeah. I’ll get straightened out in a few minutes. Just cruise around.”

Rick drove, but knew that Hal was sicker than the lawman realized. As he pulled onto Main Street, Rick grabbed Hal’s hat off the seat and placed it on his own head. He hoped that kids on the streets couldn’t tell that he wasn’t Hal.

But the streets were quiet and nearly empty. Maybe the flu had other victims, or maybe the cold weather had chased everyone indoors. Anyway, Rick saw few cars or people. That was alright with him.

Seeing that Hal had drifted into a light, fitful sleep, Rick stopped the cruiser long enough to lean across him and lock the door so he wouldn’t fall out. Rick rested his hand on Hal‘s neck and cheek and felt Hal’s weak, rapid heartbeat in his palm.

Twenty minutes later, a call came over the radio: “Mobile Two to Mobile One. Come in. Mobile Two to Mobile One. Come in, Hal.”

Hal stirred, but made no move to answer, so Rick took the mike. “Mobile One here. Go ahead, George.”

“Is that you, Rick?”

“10-4.”

“Thought it was. Things look pretty quiet tonight, don’t you think?”

Rick glanced at the man suffering next to him and wished he could tell George about his problem. “Quiet as church.”

Rick’s apprehension must’ve been broadcasted over the mike, because George’s voice became serious. “Is anything wrong, Rick? You don’t sound like yourself. Where’s Hal?”

Hal sighed and reached for the mike. “Let me have it, kid.” His hand was hot to the touch. “George, this is Hal. Can you handle things for awhile?”

The radio was silent, then,” “Sure, Hal. Anything wrong?”

“Just a little tired. Maybe a touch of the flu.”

“I thought you didn’t sound right at seven. You go on home and get to bed now.”

“If you have any trouble, call Maynard and Curly.” His voice sounded strained.

“Do you need any help, Hal?”

“No, I’m okay. The Medina kid’s with me. He’s driving. He’ll get me home in one piece.” He glanced at Rick. “George, I, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. It was the flu talking.”

Gratitude came through the radio, despite the words. “Forget it, Hal. I have. You just get well. I’ll check up on you at home.”

“Thanks, George. Mobile One out.” Hal settled back against the seat.

“Do you want to go to the doctor’s?”

“Home. Just get me home.”

Rick coasted into Hal’s driveway and cut the engine. He pulled Hal’s leather jacket over the broad shoulders of the feverish, shaking man and led him to the back door. Hal leaned heavily on Rick’s arm and stumbled up the back steps. He tripped once, and Rick snaked his arm around Hal’s waist to steady his weaving body.

“Don’t knock,” Hal mumbled as Rick struggled to hold him up. “Go on in.”

But the door opened suddenly.

“I thought I heard noises out here.“ Then Gwen saw them huddled together on the back steps. “Rick! Uncle Hal! What’s wrong?”

“He’s sick. Help me with him.”

Gwen grabbed Hal’s other arm, and they managed to haul him into the kitchen. Hal leaned on the counter and panted from the effort of walking. His bulging eyes were glazed and staring. He looked like he could faint. Gwen’s hand was cool on his hot face, and he shivered.

“He’s burning up! What happened?”

“Flu.”

The swinging door burst open. “Land’s sake, Gwen! What’s all the ruckus about?” Then she saw Hal fighting to remain standing, and she frowned.

“Uncle Hal’s sick!”

“I should say he is. Well, let’s get him to bed.”

“He’s real weak, Bertha.”

“I can see that, girl! Now, stand back and keep the kids out of our way. Rick, grab his arm.”

Dodie and Randy stood wide-eyed while Gwen held them back. Seeing their father anything but strong and in control alarmed them.

Rick and Bertha dragged Hal upstairs where he collapsed on his bed. Rick pulled off his black Oxfords.

“We’ll get you under the covers,” Bertha said as she unbuttoned his shirt. “And then we’ll get you a doctor.”

“No doctor,” Hal mumbled. “I’ll be okay.”

“Sure, you will,” Bertha agreed. She mouthed the word ‘Murphy’ at Rick and Gwen, then motioned toward the door.

The teenagers stood as wide eyed and alarmed as Hal’s youngsters had been.

“Move! I’m going to undress him, and he isn’t giving you any free show.”

Gwen cradled the phone downstairs. “Doctor Murphy will be here as soon as he can. There’s a lot of people sick. Dodie, you and Randy go on to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“I couldn’t sleep now. I want to know about Pops.”

“I’ll be in to tell you when he’s better.”

“Promise?”

Dodie looked so pitiful that Gwen patted the top of her head. “I promise, honey. Now, go on to bed.”

Dodie hugged Gwen quickly and pushed Randy upstairs.

Gwen’s eyes were sprinkled with tears. “Sentimental me! I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe she does think of me as her sister, after all. What a strange night! Suddenly everybody loves me.” She smiled softly at Rick, then looked startled. “Why, you’re wearing Uncle Hal’s hat!”

Rick pulled off the Stetson and hung it on the hat rack by the front door. “I guess I forgot I had it on.”

 

Murphy handed Rick a prescription. “He’s pretty sick, Rick. Get this filled right away.”

“At midnight?”

“Doug’s kept the drugstore open. This flu’s almost turned into an epidemic.”

“Take the Chevy,” Bertha ordered.

“The sheriff’s personal car? But he won’t like that.”

“He’s in no position to argue. Just get that medicine.”

Rick returned in ten minutes.

“I hope you didn’t bend any speed laws,” Bertha said later. She handed a cup of hot cocoa to Rick as he sat on the living room sofa.

“Just dented them some. Besides, nobody was going to stop the sheriff’s car.”

Gwen walked downstairs and settled on the sofa beside him. “Dodie was still awake. Can you believe that? But she’ll go to sleep now that I’ve told her that Uncle Hal is feeling better.”

“That medicine must work fast,” Rick said.

“So does a good sleep in a comfortable bed. I knew that man was wearing himself out. He works too hard.” Bertha clapped her hands together. “Well, it’s getting late, and I have to get up for early Mass. Gwen, you go on up to bed. Your uncle should sleep through the night. Where are you going?” she asked Rick who’d put on his jacket.

“Back to my place.”

“No, you’re not. It’s chilly out, and you’ve been exposed to the flu. Just pile down on the couch, and I’ll get you a blanket.”

“But….”

“No arguments! I know what’s best. I’m beginning to think I’m the only one around here with good sense, or any sense at all! Why he thought he had to go out tonight--! First, him. Then, I expect you kids will all try to get sick. No, young man, you’re staying here. And that’s that!”

Bertha disappeared upstairs to fetch the covers, but Rick looked like he was going to bolt.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked.

“I can’t stay here!”

“Why not?”

“Your uncle won’t like it.”

“He won’t mind. All he’s concerned about now is feeling better himself. I expect he wouldn’t mind if we brought in the Cincinnati Browns and bunked them down, just as long as Otto Grahame didn’t want Uncle Hal’s bed.”

“But I didn’t know he was sick!”

Gwen sobered. “Neither did the rest of us. Not even Bertha.”

“I wasn’t very nice to him tonight.”

“But I saw you taking care of him….”

“Before then. Out in the car.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t know about any of that.” She frowned. “Rick, why are you acting so strangely toward Uncle Hal?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled.

“You do, too, know what I mean! This evening when you were waiting on him to come downstairs, you were nervous. I thought you’d run away then, too, but something was forcing you to stay. Isn’t he the reason you haven’t been around since Tuesday?”

Rick nodded.

“Can you tell me why?”

Rick shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. How can I explain something I don’t understand myself? I thought things would be different somehow after Tuesday. I thought he might be, ah, nicer. But tonight, things were the same, and maybe even worse.”

“But he was sick.”

“I know.”

“He might be friendlier when he feels better.”

Rick rolled his eyes at the ceiling and sighed. “Oh, Lord, I know!”

Gwen frowned. “Don’t you want him to like you? Is that what you’re scared of? That he’ll like you?”

“That’s, what I can’t explain.”

“You think you don’t deserve his friendship, don’t you? Or that he could offer it honestly. But you have to trust him, Rick. That’s what you haven’t learned yet. He’s a man big in spirit and humanity. I should know.”

Rick nodded. But he knew his hunger went beyond friendship. He wanted to confess the whole truth to Gwen and felt torn up inside when he couldn’t.

“Give him a chance, Rick. He might’ve thought you were unfriendly tonight, too.” She patted his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night now. And, trust in the goodness of life. I do. What else would I have if I didn’t?”

He wanted to believe as she did, but couldn’t. For her sake, though, he agreed with her and was rewarded with a sisterly kiss to the cheek. He watched her dash upstairs.

With a great deal of bustling around, Bertha fixed a bed for Rick on the sofa. He slipped out of his shirt and jeans and slid between the sheets. For the second time in a week, he found himself in a makeshift bed that two months ago he would’ve never believed he’d occupy.

The place settled down into the comfortable stirrings of a large house sheltering many people asleep. Rick lay on the couch amid the light and shadows of the big living room and listened to Bertha padding from one upstairs room to the other as she checked on the sleepers.

Rick heard her firm steps on the stairway and then on the living room floor coming toward him.

“Are you all tucked in?” she wanted to know.

“Yes, ma’am. Bertha.”

“I bet your mama taught you to call women that, didn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered in relief.  
a  
“Then I’ll make an exception with you. I wouldn’t want you to go against your mama’s teachings. You may call me ‘ma’m’ anytime you wish.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Bertha.”

“Now, have a good sleep. You were so helpful tonight with Hal and on Tuesday night with Dodie. I wanted to thank you in case nobody else had. I don’t know what we’d done without you.” She bent and kissed his cheek.

Rick was still for a moment, then pulled his arms around her neck and returned her kiss.

“I bet your mama did that, too, didn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to answer.

“You’ll get the home you deserve someday, Rick. Don’t lose your faith in that, or in people.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Sleep well,” she said softly and left.

Rick heard Bertha’s door close on the other side of the kitchen, and the large house quieted.

Rick lay awake, thinking about the home Bertha said he deserved. His fondest dream was for his mother to return and for his father to stop drinking. Then they could be a family again. They’d have problems, but they could tackle them together. Then they could share the family spirit that permeated the Endicott home.

Rick forced himself to stay awake, enjoying the contentment he felt in this house. It was so lonely at his place.

The mantel clock began to strike, and Rick counted the strokes. Or, at least, he started to count. But he fell asleep before he ever learned what time it was.

He awoke to some squabbling.

“What are you doing downstairs?” Bertha demanded.

“I came down for breakfast, just as I do every morning at seven a.m.!” Hal defiantly stood before her in robe and pajamas.

“You’re marching back upstairs! You’re sick!”

“I’m sitting right here in my easy chair and having some coffee, if there is any.”

“Stubborn man,” Bertha mumbled as she huffed into the kitchen.

Rick sat up. “You sure recover fast.”

Rick’s voice startled Hal. “What are you doing here?!”

“It got late. Bertha wouldn’t let me leave.”

“So, she trapped you, too, huh? That woman can be an absolute hellion when it comes to bossing men folk around. I distinctly said no doctor, but….”

“But you certainly needed one,” Bertha boomed from the doorway. “Here’s your coffee, if you think you’re strong enough to drink it.”

“A good night’s sleep was all I needed. I never felt better. Bring on the wild horses! I could break them all.”

“Glad to hear it! I was getting tired of babying you around. But you still better take it easy today.”

“All those damned leaves that you women think are so pretty on the trees are on the ground now and staring me in the face. They won’t pick themselves up, you know.”

“Maybe the kids can con Rick into helping them with those leaves after dinner. Rick, there’s some cooked cereal out in the kitchen when you’re ready to eat. If you men think you’re so self-sufficient, I’ll leave you to yourselves. I’m going to Mass. It wouldn’t hurt you if you went, too.”

“We’re not Catholic!” Hal roared after her.

Bertha stopped at the swinging door and gave him a smug look. “God doesn’t care about that.”

Hal glared at the door swinging to and fro. “Women! You can’t win against them! There’s no way! They fight dirty.”

Rick hid his grin as Hal muttered into his coffee cup.

That feud between Hal and Bertha was all a bluff, designed to hide feelings too tender to be admitted without embarrassment. Rick remembered last night when a concerned Bertha had snapped at children she loved as she steered Hal to his bed. And Rick recalled Hal’s trembling hand groping blindly for Bertha’s and being calmed when her big, strong fingers closed over his.

Rick dressed, folded his blanket and sheets, and straightened the sofa. He heard Hal struggle out of his armchair and frowned. “You don’t look so good.”

“Don’t let HER know.” Hal’s hand shook as he grabbed his chair. “I’m dizzy again. I better get back upstairs.”

Rick took his arm, but Hal shook him off.

“Let me alone! Everyone’s so damn helpful around here. Damn flu! I just need to get back to bed.”

Hal wove unsteadily up the steps, and Rick tried to help as he followed. Several times, Hal shook off Rick’s hand. But at the top of the stairs, Hal leaned against the banister.

“I guess I can’t make it, kid.”

Rick took his arm. “You almost did it.”

They met Gwen in the hall. “I heard voices. Uncle Hal! What are you doing up?!”

“Not much. I guess it wasn’t a good idea, after all.”

Rick got Hal out of his robe and eased him into his bed. Hal clung to his arm, and Rick virtually had to rip the clawing hand off himself. Gwen pulled the blankets up to Hal’s chin.

Hal squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Hal?”

“The world won’t stop spinning. You kids better get out of here. You’ll catch this bug from me.”

“No reason to worry about that now, Uncle Hal. Rick and I were around you all last night.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least, I guess you’re right. I can’t seem to remember too much about last night.” Hal cautiously opened his eyes. “There. It’s better. Whew! I wouldn’t wish this crap on the Devil himself. Thanks for helping, both of you. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. I shouldn’t have tried working last night. Guess you had your hands full out in that patrol car. Sorry, kid.”

“No trouble,” Rick mumbled, but he had a funny look on his face. “I’ve had lots of practice with my old man.”

Hal grinned. “Yeah, I expect I was stumbling around like a drunk.” His smile faded into a puzzled frown.

Rick grew uncomfortable. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to remember something that happened last night in the car. I think I nearly blacked out for a few minutes, but something held onto me and wouldn’t let me loose. I even fought it, but it called me back. That’s the only way I can describe it. It called me back.”

“You must’ve imagined all that,” Rick mumbled. “You were pretty sick.”

Hal’s frown deepened as he tried to remember.

“Doctor Murphy said a lot of people were sick,” Gwen said smoothly. She understood that for some reason Rick didn’t want Hal to remember too much. “I guess this means there won’t be any church or Sunday school for us this morning.”

“Not with all this flu around.”

“Oh, dear, Dodie has to be there.”

“Why?”

“She’s suppose to sing a solo in the junior choir.”

“Well, take the Chevy and just be careful who you get around. It won’t be any worse than being in school tomorrow.”

“But, Uncle Hal, you’ve forgotten. I don’t drive yet.”

“He does,” Hal said as he motioned toward Rick. “Get the car keys from Bertha, go change your clothes, and be back here in time to pick up the girls. You’re going to church.” When Rick didn’t move, Hal said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No. No, I don’t mind.”

“Good. You kids go eat now. And don’t let Bertha know she was right about me. She’d never let me forget it.”

In the hall, Gwen was smiling about Hal and Bertha until she saw the confused look on Rick’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Boy, he must be sick! Last night, he trusted me to take care of him. And now he trusts me to drive you girls somewhere.”

“Maybe he’s just being sneaky and easing you into going to church,” she joked lightly.

“I doubt that.”

She sobered. “Why shouldn’t he trust you?”

“Because one of his girls has already died with me.”

Gwen chewed her lip. “You’re too sensitive, Rick. You shouldn’t dwell on Lori’s accident so much.”

“He hasn’t forgotten it, either. Not by a long shot. He dangles it over my head like an axe. It’s always with us.”

“He’s accepting her death, just as you must. It happened. It was tragic, but we have to go on living.”

“Wake up, Gwen! Your cousin was killed because she rode in my car!”

She blinked.

“The Law says I’m responsible for her death. I can’t ever forget that, and neither can he.”

“I know,” Gwen murmured. “Oh, Rick, stop torturing yourself. You’re such a fine person. That’s enough for us.”

“But not for him!”

“Then why does he trust you? Rick, you have to give in a little yourself. Why couldn’t he change his opinion of you? He might not admit it yet, but I think he realizes you meant Lori no harm. You think you took something away from us when Lori died. Well, that’s true, you did. But you’ve also given us so much during these past few weeks. We’re better people for having known you.”

“The drunkard’s son from the wrong side of town?!”

“Have we ever treated you like that? Has Uncle Hal?”

Rick cooled. “Somehow, I think I could handle prejudice easier than hatred. It’s not as personal.”

“Rick….”

But Rick pounded down the stair steps. “I’ll go change. Be ready at a quarter after ten.”

“But, but that’s hours from now! And you haven’t had any breakfast yet!”

“I’ll grab something at my place!”

“The car keys….”

“Still in my pocket!” And he was gone out the front door.

Gwen sighed. She wished Rick didn’t feel so defensive.

“Gwen!” Hal called.

Gwen hurried back to her uncle’s room. “Yes?”

“I heard the front door. Who left?”

“Rick.”

“Without breakfast? Why?”

“I really don’t know,” she lied. Then one of her occasional flashes of courage seized her. “Yes, I do, too, know why. He thinks you don’t want him around here. He thinks you hate him. Is that true, Uncle Hal? Do you hate Rick? Since you’ve been around him lately and have gotten to know him, can you honestly say that you hate him?”

Hal blinked. “I don’t know.”

Gwen felt preaching words rising behind her tongue, words that would tell Hal of his family’s devotion to Rick. But such words might only anger Hal and destroy any harmony that existed between him and Rick. She wisely dropped the subject.

“I have go eat now,” she mumbled. “Take care of yourself.”

“What? Yeah,” Hal murmured. “You go ahead, honey. I‘ll just lie here and let the Devil play billiards a little bit longer in my head.”

She grinned, in spite of her concern for him. “Is that the first indication that you’re getting better?”

“Lord, I hope so.” He closed his eyes. “Go on now. Go to church and pray for deliverance of your poor old uncle. I can’t take too much more of being sick.”


	12. Painting

“I didn’t know you could sing that well, small fry,” Rick said as he drove the girls back from church.

Dodie beamed shyly in the light of Rick’s praise. “I tried to be extra good because I knew you’d hear me.”

“Well, I really enjoyed listening to you. And I liked going to church with you, too.”

“Would you go with us again next Sunday? We could sit together. Junior choir won’t have to sing. We could even bring Randy and Pops, if we can get him to sit still.”

“Who? Pops?”

Dodie giggled. “No, silly! I meant Randy!”

Rick winked at Gwen. “I think I’d like that just fine, small fry.”

Gwen smiled back. She was glad that Dodie had cheered Rick up. Now that the hot sun was traveling south, Rick’s summer-bleached hair was darkening into its natural tobacco color. Highlights in it glowed with the dull gleam of old gold. What a handsome young man he is, Gwen thought, and so nice.

Dodie snuggled against his arm and softly sang her solo to him.

Rick parked the Chevy in the driveway.

“Bertha’s got a big beef roast in the oven,” Dodie said as she hopped out of the car. “She went to early Mass so she could fix a special dinner for us.”

“I hope she didn’t go to all that trouble for me.”

Dodie beamed. “Sure, she did! I asked her to!”

“I’m sorry, small fry. My dad’s fixing dinner for me.”

Dodie’s face fell.

“He didn’t get drunk last night. He’s trying hard to stay sober so I’ll be proud of him. When he woke up this morning, he couldn’t find me. When I went home to change clothes, he was about ready to cry from worrying about what happened to me. I thought he’d get mad, but he hugged me. That hasn’t happened in a long time. I wanted to stay with him then, but I knew you and Gwen were counting on me, too. When I left, Dad was busy cooking. I can’t disappoint him, Dodie. I want to be with him. He’s my dad. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Dodie nodded. “What about this afternoon?”

“I told him I was coming over here to help you. He said that’d be all right, but he asked me to be back at five. He said we’d go over to Springfield to eat supper and have a regular party, just the two of us.” Rick smiled, and neither girl had ever seen him look so happy. “Suddenly, I’m in demand. My social calendar is overflowing. I’m used to sitting home and staring at the wall.” He sobered. “I think he’s really trying this time. I’m going to help him all I can.” He handed the Chevy keys to Gwen.

Gwen’s eyes sparkled as she smiled softly at him. “Good luck. We’ll see you after dinner.”

The two girls watched Rick disappear down the sidewalk.

“Darn!”

“What’s wrong, Dodie?”

“I wish he wouldn’t treat me like an adult!”

Gwen’s eyes sparkled with humor as they walked inside the house.

Dodie related their conversation with Rick over roast beef and noodles. Hal felt strong enough to dine downstairs, and he listened without comment to Dodie’s monologue as he quietly sipped beef broth. Little else was discussed besides Rick and the leaf-raking project.

At a quarter after one, Bertha and the children were finishing the dinner dishes when they heard a car pull into the driveway. A moment later, they heard Rick’s knock on the back door.

“Why are you knocking?!” Dodie demanded as she yanked the door open, then stopped in amazement and stared at the stranger with Rick. He was a big, husky man who stood almost a foot taller than Rick and wore an engaging, almost boyish grin on his scarred face.

“Dodie, this is my dad. He wants to help, too.”

Her eyes shifted to Rick’s face. He seemed to be begging her to go along with the idea. But this was Bert Medina, the man who drank! The man who hit Rick! And Rick’s father, whom Rick was trying so desperately to help.

“Won’t you come in, Mr. Medina?”

They closed the door. Endicotts stared at Medinas.

“Bertha Mendoza, this is my father.”

Bertha offered her hand. “Happy to meet Rick’s father.”

Bert smiled. “Charmed.”

“Gwen Pfeiffer, the sheriff’s niece.”

“Hello, Mr. Medina.”

“They make them prettier everyday. The boys in high school must be tripping over each other to ask you out.”

Gwen blushed.

“You’ve met Dodie. This is her brother, Randy.”

Randy grinned. “’Lo!”

Bert bent toward him. “Hello, hotshot!”

Randy twisted his head to the side.

“How did you know his nickname?” Dodie demanded.

“Because I call all little boys that. Even Rick, when he was younger.”

“And what do you call little girls? Small fry?”

“That’s right, small fry. How did you know?”

“Because that’s what Rick calls us.”

“Oh?” Bert grinned affectionately at Rick and took a playful punch at his head. “Copycat!”

Rick grinned shyly.

“The sheriff’s gone upstairs to rest,” Bertha said. “Sorry he’s not down here.”

“Uh, that’s all right, ma’am. We’ve, ah, already met, in a matter of speaking. Rick said he has the flu. Hope he gets to feeling better soon.”

“I’ll pass the message along.”

Bert spotted Bertha’s sarcastic, dry wit and decided she’d be a tough, old bird to try to buffalo. Instead, he enthusiastically rubbed his hands together. “Okay! Let’s get this leaf raking organized! Into your coats! Rick, you find the baskets!”

“In the back of the garage!” Bertha called to Rick.

Bert helped Randy into his heavy coat and cap while the girls dressed in their wool jackets and plaid scarves.

“Okay, hotshot! Let’s go! Come on, girls!”

Gwen shot Bertha an amazed look as she ran out the door.

Bertha was reading a book when Hal trampled downstairs. She laid the book on the kitchen table.

Hal rubbed his backside. “I laid up there about as long as I could. I’d sure hate to be stuck in bed very long.”

“Enjoy it while you can. It’s back to work tomorrow. You’ll be so healthy by then, I won’t be able to stand you.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be in your way tomorrow. How’s the leaf raking coming along? Did the Mighty Medina show up?”

“He sure did. Take a look for yourself.”

“After listening to Dodie at dinner, you’d get the idea that he could move mountains, or walk on water.”

“For Dodie, maybe he can.”

Hal pulled aside the curtain and chuckled. “They’re scattering more leaves than they’re picking up. But they’re sure having one hell of a time. I guess that’s what they missed yesterday. Hey, there’s TWO guys out there! That’s Bert Medina! What’s HE doing here?!” His flashing eyes accused Bertha.

“Don’t blame me. Rick brought along a playmate.”

“I might be saddled with the kid, but I don’t remember D.L. Farley saying I had to baby sit with his old man, too!”

“Hal, don’t you remember what Dodie told us? Rick’s trying to help his father. From what Rick’s told me, his father is real good with kids.”

“Unless he’s drinking, and then he whops them!”

“He’s not drinking now. Maybe Rick thought it’d do his father some good to be around little kids again. Give him something else to think about besides drinking.”

“But do they have to be my kids?!”

“They’re the only kids that Rick must know very well. He’ll watch out for them. The girls understand what’s going on. They’re trying to help Rick to help his father. I let them decide for themselves.”

“Gutsy kids I’ve got. But I‘m going to keep an eye on what‘s going on.” 

Bertha went back to her kitchen duties as Hal stood at the window.

Soon Hal was laughing as he watched. “Glad I’m not in Medina’s shoes. He just got lambasted by a basket of leaves. Now, he’s chasing the kids. They’re all rolling on the ground. Leaves are going every direction. Boy! Are they ever going to be a mess when they get through!”

“Bet you’d like to be out there with them.”

“Looks like fun, but Bert Medina might not let me win the way he’s letting Randy win.”

The happy people with rakes ran and cavorted and performed a minor miracle by finally managing to pile all the leaves together. Then they romped for the sheer joy of playing together. Bert Medina was the biggest kid in the game. He wrestled all of the kids but Gwen, and they wrestled him.

Rick and Bert grappled with each other while the girls and Randy yelled. Over and over they rolled, laughing and grabbing. They stopped suddenly. Rick’s grin slowly faded as Bert searched his face. Then he hugged Rick fiercely. Rick squeezed his eyes shut, and his mouth trembled.

“Thank you, son. Thank you, baby.” Bert rocked Rick in his arms. “I love you, honey.”

Rick buried his face against Bert’s neck.

“You’re the best kid in this whole damned world, and I’m gonna do right by you. I promise, son. I promise.”

Gwen bit her lips shut and fought back her tears. She fumbled for Dodie’s hand and squeezed it.

Hal walked up, saw Bert and Rick in each others' arms, and was mildly annoyed that such a scene was taking place in his backyard.

Gwen’s smile trembled at Hal. Always the softhearted, romantic Gwen, he thought.

Rick raised his head and looked straight into Hal’s stern face. Tears clung to Rick’s sooty eyelashes. He stiffened and pulled away from Bert.

“What’s wrong, son?” Then Bert saw Hal and smiled sheepishly. “Oh, hi, Sheriff. We’re just finishing up here.”

“Dust yourself off, Dodie,” Hal said. “There’s hot chocolate waiting inside.”

“Oh, boy!” Dodie ran for the house, but stopped and walked back to where she’d been standing.

Hal knew what she wanted. “Alright. You, too, Medina. Both of you.”

Dodie and Randy cheered.

“Don’t suppose you have something lying around to make that hot chocolate more interesting, do you, Sheriff?”

Hal glared down at Bert.

“Just asking. Just asking.” Bert grinned and got to his feet. He and the children laughed as they slapped leaf dust off each other. Then Dodie and Randy each grabbed a hand and led Bert inside.

Rick held the door open for Gwen. “Sheriff?” His eyes said thanks as Hal walked past him.

They drank their chocolate as they sat in the living room. A football game roared on television and helped to relieve the tension that Hal felt. Here sat Bert Medina with him socially. Less than a month ago, they’d fought each other in a tavern brawl. Hal had one consolation. Bert probably felt as ill at ease as he did.

Randy and Dodie snuggled against Rick whose arms encircled them. Bert sat beside them on the sofa. A constant stream of chatter flowed between them until the children gradually quieted.

Hal didn’t want to converse with Bert so he concentrated on the ballgame.

“Look, Uncle Hal,” Gwen said softly.

His sleeping children clung to a sleeping Rick and used his chest for a pillow. Rick’s head hung over theirs and partially hid their faces. The three all looked so appealing huddled together that Hal eagerly accepted the flash camera that Gwen handed to him.

Bert couldn’t get out of the picture without awakening them and ruining the shot. Hal gestured for Bert to stay where he was. Bert looked at the children and grinned.

The flashbulb awakened the sleepers. They looked around stupidly and rubbed their eyes. Even Hal had to laugh with good nature at them.

Bert glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly five, son. Now that you’ve had your beauty nap, we have to be going.”

“Oh-h-h,” Dodie whined and took Rick’s hand.

“We’ll be having supper in about an hour,” Hal heard himself say. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“Sounds mighty tempting, Sheriff, but we’ll have to turn you down.” Bert pulled his big arm around Rick and winked at him as he ruffled his hair. “Me and Rick’s got other plans for tonight, don’t we, boy?”

Rick looked at Bert with adoring eyes.

“Some other time then,” Hal mumbled.

“Thanks for the invite.” Bert stuck out his big paw.

Hal stared at the hand.

“Come on, Sheriff,” Bert urged with a friendly smile. “Let’s let bygones be bygones.”

Hal shook the hand Bert offered. “Alright, Medina.”

“Thanks for the afternoon, Sheriff. It meant a lot to me and my boy.”

“That’s alright,” Hal mumbled. He felt like he was reading a script. “Thanks for helping with the raking.”

“It was fun. It gave me and Rick a chance to do something together. And we’re going to be doing a lot of other things together, too. Right, son? Then you won’t be underfoot around here so much.”

Something didn’t quite ring true for Hal. Bert’s words annoyed him. “He hasn’t been underfoot.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, Sheriff. I appreciate everything you and your family’s done for him. It’s made me see how much I’ve been neglecting him. But that’s going to change. Right, Rick?” He patted Rick’s shoulder.

Rick was so lost in the wonder of his father’s change of character, he could only smile shyly.

“He’s been a lot of help to us lately.” Hal couldn’t understand his rising anger or the feeling that Bert was stealing Rick away from them.

“I know,” Bert said with an affectionate grin for his son. “And I’m mighty proud of him for being such a man.” He stirred himself. “Well, we have to be going. Glad to meet all you folks. Thanks for the cocoa, ma’am. Ladies, it’s been a pleasure. Now, you’ll have to excuse us. We’ve got a hot date in Springfield.”

Hal walked them to the front door and held it open. “I’ll see you next Saturday night at seven.”

Rick nodded toward Hal, but wouldn’t look at him. They both knew that Bert would be keeping Rick busy and away from the Endicotts. And there was nothing anybody could do about it. Bert was Rick’s father, and Rick would try to please him.

The football game roared on, watched by no one, as all of the Endicotts stared at the screen in silence.

“That was certainly a strange afternoon,” Bertha said at last. “I never figured we’d ever entertain Bert Medina in this house.”

“I don’t understand it,” Dodie said. “He can’t get drunk and hit Rick. I thought he was nice. I liked Rick’s daddy.”

“That’s Rick’s problem, too,” Bertha explained. “His father’s nice when he isn’t drinking. It’d be better for Rick if his father was a terrible person all the time, sober or drunk. Then Rick wouldn’t feel so guilty and ashamed when he hates his father for getting drunk.”

“Do you think Rick hates his own daddy?”

“He doesn’t want to, Dodie. He just feels hurt and disappointed when his father weakens and breaks his promise not to get drunk. Rick loves his father very much. You could see that for yourself this afternoon. That’s why it hurts Rick so much when his father drinks.”

Dodie rushed to Hal’s side and kissed his cheek.

“What was that for?”

“That’s because you’re such a good daddy, and I’m glad you don’t make me cry.”

Hal pulled her into his arms and gave her a bear hug. “And that’s because I’m glad I don’t make you cry.”

She played with his shirt pocket as she sat on his lap.

“Pops?”

“Hmm?” he answered as he watched the quarterback run with the football.

“I wish Rick could live with us.”

Hal slammed his fist on the arm of his overstuffed chair. “The idiot! He should’ve passed. Now, the other team’s recovered the ball.” He looked at his daughter. “Why do you say that, honey? He’s got a home.”

“But not a very good one. I could look after him here. He needs to eat more. Even Bertha and Gwen say so.”

Hal grinned. “Do you want to adopt him?”

“I love him, Pops,” she said seriously. “I’m going to marry him when I grow up.”

“You are?!” Hal knew it was only a childish fancy, but memories of Lori’s death nettled him. “We’ll wait ten years and see how you feel then.”

“I’ll still feel the same,” she promised.

Bertha stood up. “Time to start supper, girls.” She hung back a moment as Dodie and Gwen trooped into the kitchen. “What do you really think about this afternoon, Hal?”

“I think Medina’s going to keep his kid away from here, even if he has to stop drinking to do it.”

“I agree. He’s jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“He thinks we’re stealing his son. That’s why he’s not drinking, and it’s for the wrong reason. His sobriety won’t last. He should be abstaining for love, not jealousy.”

 

On Monday afternoon, Rick appeared at the Endicott’s backdoor. His eyes were bright and shiny.

“Dad bought some yellow paint. We’re going to paint the kitchen. We wondered if the girls would like to help?”

“Could we, Pops?!”

“I don’t know….”

“Please!”

“Gwen?”

Gwen looked a little frightened, but nodded. She didn’t want to disappoint Rick and Dodie.

“Okay, Uncle Hal.”

Dodie whooped. “Oh, boy!”

“Get your coats and get in the car. I’ll drive you over.”

The kids trooped outside.

“Is that a very good idea, Hal? Letting two girls go over there alone?”

“I’ll check it out. If it doesn’t look all right, I’ll bring them back home. Besides, the Medina kid wouldn’t drag them into a bad situation. He wouldn’t let them get hurt.”

 

Bert had stripped the kitchen of curtains and decorations. The room looked pleasantly bare with the bright sunshine pouring in the naked windows.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Sheriff. We’ll take good care of your girls. I’ve got a mulligan stew on the back of the stove, and I’ll heat it up for supper. I’ll drive them back in my jalopy after they eat so they’ll have plenty of time to do their homework.”

Dodie twisted her mouth. “Thanks, heaps.”

Bert grinned at her. “You have to get your schooling, small fry.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, let’s get cracking! Everyone put on one of my old shirts so you won’t get your clothes dirty. There’s a pile of them on the table. Rick, you and Gwen drape those old bed sheets over the table and the appliances. Dodie, you help me spread newspapers on the floor.”

Hal backed out of the kitchen and left the house. Nobody noticed that he was gone.

 

“And the stew was super! Bert learned to make it in the Navy. He was a cook there,” Dodie explained.

Bertha raised her eyebrow. “Bert?”

“Mr. Medina. He called it mulligan, but I don’t know who Mr. Mulligan was.”

“I doubt if there ever was a Mr. Mulligan. It’s just a name that’s been given to a catch-all stew.”

“No wonder B---, I mean, Mr. Medina laughed when I mentioned Mr. Mulligan. Oh, we were always laughing. And singing! Mr. Medina must know a thousand songs. Painting didn’t seem like work, at all.”

“What kind of songs?” Hal asked.

“Oh, Home on the Range, Grandfather’s Clock, Three Blind Mice, Shenandoah. Things like that.” She rolled her eyes and snickered. “We even sang Jingle Bells! Can you believe that! We were afraid the neighbors would hear us, but the only one close is deaf old Mrs. Carson. We got tickled trying to shush each other up and never did finish the song. Mr. Medina told us some funny stories, too.”

“What kind of stories?” Hal asked.

“About being in the Navy. One day he and his friends were washing the deck, and the Captain came by and slipped on a bar of soap. He had on a new uniform and got it all dirty.” She held a hand over her face to stop her giggles.

“Sounds like you had a good time.”

“We did, Bertha. Come on, Randy. I’ll teach you some of the songs.” Dodie led him into the living room.

“How was it really, Gwen?” Bertha asked.

Gwen smiled. “Mr. Medina couldn’t have been nicer. He didn’t try anything funny, and I was on the guard. He acted like a teacher with a bunch of kids. You know, good to them and patient. No, he was more like a kid himself. Kind of like a big brother. We’re going back tomorrow afternoon, if it’s all right with Uncle Hal. I’ve never seen Rick so happy. He couldn’t do enough for his father, and his father acted the same way toward him. I’m glad I can help Rick this way. He’s always been so lonely.”

“I think we’re all interested in helping Rick. Isn’t that so, Hal?”

“Hmm? Yeah. That’s right. You girls can go over to Medina’s place as much as you want. You’re old enough to judge when things are safe for you and Dodie. Besides, his kid won’t let him hurt you.”

“His kid? Oh, you mean Rick. Excuse me. I think I’ll go tell Dodie and help her with that singing.”

“Well, the Medinas certainly perked her up,” Bertha said after Gwen disappeared through the swinging door. “She rarely gets that animated about anything.”

“Sounds like Medina’s doing okay with the kids. He wasn’t jealous, after all.”

“On the contrary. I believe more firmly than ever that he’s jealous.”

“Then why did he invite the girls to his place?”

“To keep Rick from being over here.”

“That doesn’t make sense! If he’s so jealous of us, he should try to make his kid forget us.”

“Not all of us, Hal, just you.”

“Me?!”

“Yes. Bert Medina is jealous of you.”

“Why, I can’t believe that!”

“It’s true, though. He knows Rick has made a hero out of you, and Bert Medina can’t measure up to that.”

Hal squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“Am I telling you something you didn’t know? Why, of course, I am! I can see it in your face. You’ve been so busy trying to bring Rick to task for Lori’s death that you haven’t seen what he really thinks about you. Why, he lives for Saturday night and the time he can spend over here. We’ve become very important to him. And you’re his idea of what a father should be: tough, but fair.”

Hal studied his coffee cup. “Gwen says Medina thinks I hate him, that I don’t want him around. Do I really act that way?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes, you act like you’re seeing right through him as if he wasn’t there.”

“I didn’t know I treated anyone like that, least of all a kid. But, my God, Bertha, that kid hurt me. Bad. I can’t help feeling hard toward him.”

“The kid’s name is Rick, Hal. He’s a person. And he’s gotten to be a very special person to all of us. I know why you feel the way you do, but making Rick suffer now won’t bring Lori back. Does it give you any satisfaction to inflict more pain on someone who needs your understanding and friendship so much? Aren’t you hurting yourself, too?”

“I’m Lori’s father. I can’t forget he’s responsible for her death.”

“Must someone carry around that heavy burden of guilt? That’s an awful lot for someone his age to have to bear. After all, you’re partly responsible for the accident, too.”

“I know. I’ve accepted my responsibility.”

“And your responsibility to the dead is greater than that to the living?”

Hal bit his lips together. “He’s not my son, Bertha.”

“Maybe not. But you’ve become a father image to him. He needs a strong, firm, understanding man he can look up to right now. Apparently, his father just doesn’t fill the bill. If Rick doesn’t find the kind of example he needs, he may never mature into a solid, dependable adult.”

“That sounds like something D.L. Farley said once. Do you think that’s why he put Medina in my squad car?”

“Could be.”

“That’s a heck of a thing to ask a guy to do!”

“What’s that?”

“Raise somebody else’s kid.”

“You’re raising your sister’s.”

“I know, but that’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s just different, that’s all,” he grumbled.

“Hal, nobody expects you to take Rick away from his father, not even Rick. Just help him a little. Guide him down the right path.”

“I’ve never thought of you as being a romantic. This sounds like something Gwen might’ve dreamed up. Where did this hero business come from, anyway?”

Bertha noted that Hal didn’t protest as much as she thought he would.

 

On Tuesday after school, the girls again helped with the kitchen painting. The session was more of a party than work, but everyone was enjoying each other too much to notice. That evening, Hal and Bertha heard more glowing reports of Bert’s cooking and the fun they were sharing with Rick and his father.

That’s why Hal and Bertha were so surprised to see the girls dash into the kitchen on Wednesday afternoon. They gasped for breath as they wiped their eyes and noses with hankies.

“Why, what are you two doing home so early? It’s just five after four.” Then Bertha saw their faces. Both had been streaked with tears. “What’s the matter, girls?”

Hal pushed back his chair. “What happened?”

“Mr. Medina was drunk!” Dodie blurted.

“Drunk? Gwen?”

“That’s right, Bertha. Everything looked normal at Rick’s house, just the way it did yesterday. But it was quiet, too quiet; and Mr. Medina didn’t answer when Rick called him. Then he stumbled out of the bedroom. It was awful.” Gwen closed her eyes, trying to blot out the memory. “He….”

Hal’s eyes flashed. “Did he touch you?!”

“He tried to. Rick pulled me away. Dodie stood between us, and Rick’s father called her a jailhouse brat. Rick told us to leave, and we did. Just as we left, though, Mr. Medina acted as if he was going to hit Rick. I think Rick talked him out of it, but I’m not sure. Oh, Uncle Hal, we’re both so worried about Rick. We don’t want him to get hurt. We ran all the way home to tell you.”

With a grim look on his face, Hal headed for the backdoor. “I better get over there.”

“Why did he do it, Pops?! I liked him. Why did he change?”

Hal could only shake his head. “I don’t know, honey.”

Rick answered his front door to find Hal standing there.

“Are you alright?” Hal wanted to know.

Rick nodded solemnly, but looked away in shame.

“Can I talk to you?”

Rick’s eyes slid toward his father lying on the couch. Bert kicked and mumbled, but he was asleep. Rick nodded and motioned for Hal to follow him.

They walked softly into the kitchen.

Hal’s eyes darted over the walls. “The paint job looks pretty good. You were almost finished. The girls told us what happened. Do you know what set him off?”

Rick’s lips trembled. “Today’s my folks’ anniversary. I forgot. But he didn’t. It started him to thinking, and that must’ve gotten him to drinking. I guess he’s been at it ever since I left for school this morning. I didn’t know any different until the girls and I walked in here right before four.” His eyes pleaded with Hal. “I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought them home. I hoped he was going to be okay. I thought he was trying to bring himself out of it. I’m sorry the girls had to see him this way.”

“It wasn’t your fault. The girls don’t blame you, and neither do I. Even I trusted him, so don’t feel too bad about being fooled. You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t prevent. You were only trying to help him, but it apparently wasn’t enough. You gave it a damned good try, though.” Hal compressed his lips. “Listen to me, kid. The only one who can help Bert Medina is Bert Medina. You can beat your brains out trying. But until he’s willing to want the help, it’s a lost cause. You did your best. None of this is your fault.”

“Isn’t it?!” Sudden tears welled in Rick’s eyes, but he angrily blinked them away. “Then why are you here?”

“We were worried about you. We didn’t want him to hurt you. Did he?”

“No! I’m okay. He won’t bother me anymore. You can leave now. You’ve done your duty!”

In the living room, Bert flopped on the couch and grumbled incoherently. He swatted at a pesky fly buzzing around his mouth and rubbed a rough hand over his face. Distant voices disturbed him.

“Eh? What? What the hell?” He muttered an obscenity. “That damn bull’s here again! I’ll get that son of a….” He tried to rise, but fell back to the sofa unconscious.

Many things that happened during a drunken stupor Bert forgot, but Hal’s visit that day he’d remember when he sobered up. He’d remember with a vengeance.

“Look, kid,” Hal said, “painting was a good idea. He didn’t drink for a few days. Maybe you did more good than you know. Maybe he’ll do better now when this anniversary thing blows over.”

“He’s never going to be over it! He keeps promising and promising, and it means nothing! Nothing!”

Angry, defiant tears brimmed in Rick’s eyes and threatened to spill down his cheeks. His shame and frustration overwhelmed Hal so greatly that he felt a crazy urge to pull Rick into his arms and comfort him, to whisper encouraging words, to let him know he had Hal’s understanding and support. Hal’s body weakened as he felt his strength flowing toward Rick. His arms ached to hold the grieving boy. But the urge passed, leaving Hal bewildered and confused about his own feelings.

“I’m tired of his promises! I’m through with him!”

Hal’s personal uncertainty was shoved aside for the tough words Rick needed to hear.

“How can you say that? You’re the only chance he has. If you desert him now, he’ll have nothing to live for. You don’t want his death on your head. He may not be much, but he’s still your father. You have to help him.”

Rick stared at Hal. “You think I should stay, then?”

“What do you think you should do? Run? You’ll regret it forever. Maybe not now or next year, but someday you will. And then you’ll be sorry, but you won’t be able to do a damned thing about it because it’ll be too late. It’ll eat your guts out.”

Rick dropped his head. “Oh, God, you’re right! I’m tired of staying, but I’m scared of running. I can’t leave. I, I can’t leave.”

The urge to comfort Rick crushed down on Hal again, and he stepped forward. But he somehow knew if he so much as touched Rick during this emotional moment, it’d dissolve Rick’s composure completely, and maybe his own.

Hal stepped backwards. “Ah, you’ll be alright?”

Rick nodded. “I’ll finish the painting. He probably won’t even remember what happened this afternoon.”

“Call if you need us. Okay?” Hal edged toward the backdoor. “You hear me, boy?”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

“I mean it now. You call me. Promise?”

“Sure. I promise.”

Hal loosened his grip on the doorknob. “Don’t take it so hard, kid,” he said softly. “It’ll be alright.”

Rick had felt surly until he heard the very personal tone in Hal’s voice. He looked up and was startled to see not only sympathy on Hal’s face, but deep caring. Rick’s eyes widened in awe. He felt drawn to the sanctuary of Hal’s strength. There was no hatred as Hal returned that steady gaze.

The moment was too naked. Self-consciously, they broke the gaze and stared at the feet they scraped nervously on the floor. Hal coughed and Rick rubbed the back of his neck. Both recoiled back inside themselves and hid their feelings behind defensive masks.

“I better get going. They’ll be wondering at home about you.”

“Thanks,” Rick mumbled. “Thanks for understanding.”

The lawman spoke. “Ain’t nothing to misunderstand, boy. What you got here is a fact of life. You can look up, down, all around, and it’s still with you.” He opened the door. “And it takes a man to cope with it. A real man.” His eyes locked with Rick’s, and he was happy that the urge to grab Rick didn’t possess him anymore. Rick needed guidance, not more sympathy. “I know you can cope with this problem, boy.”

Rick squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

So willing to try just because Hal said so! Such trust!

The personal feeling crept back over Hal and made him feel uneasy. Embarrassed, he avoided looking at Rick as he ducked out the backdoor.

Rick’s eyes followed him in wonder. His ambivalent longings returned.

Hal stepped into the Medina’s backyard and walked around the house toward his patrol car. His head buzzed, his body felt numb, and he was barely conscious of where he trod.

Bertha was right! Rick had made a hero out of him. He’d seen proof of that this afternoon when he’d changed Rick’s mind so easily about leaving his father.

But that other, the raw, unspoken emotion that had passed between him and Rick, that stunned Hal. He hadn’t acted like a professional lawman then and that bothered him.

 

After supper the children scattered for the television, but Hal remained huddled over the kitchen table and played with his coffee cup.

“If that cup was a well, you’d be drowned by now.”

“Sorry, Bertha. I was trying to figure out something.”

“What’s that?”

“If I like being a hero.”

“And….”

“I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll affect you, Hal. Once committed, you can’t walk away from him. He won’t let you, and you won’t want to.”

“I know, damn it! That’s the problem.”

She turned so he wouldn’t see her smile.


	13. The Bad Wreck

“Pops said you were okay, but I still worried.”

“Thanks, Dodie.”

“He said you needed time alone with your dad, so we didn’t call or try to see you. Is he better?”

“He was sick all day Thursday. I should’ve skipped school and took care of him. He’s feeling better tonight.”

“Your dad also told you not to ask Rick a lot of questions, Dodie,” Bertha said. “That’s prying.”

“I’m just interested in Rick.”

“I know. We all are.”

“Thanks, Bertha. And it’s not prying. I’m glad you care what happens to me.”

“Dodie, let’s let him at least come in out of the cold and shut the door. Do you want some supper, Rick?”

Rick glanced furtively around the living room.

“Rick?”

“Hmm?”

“Want anything to eat? A hotdog?”

“Uh, no. No, thanks, Bertha.”

“Then sit down and watch TV with the kids. Randy’s been wondering where you’ve been. He’ll probably talk the hind leg off you.”

Gwen and Randy walked through the swinging door from the kitchen. “I got him cleaned up, Bertha. Oh, hi, Rick.”

At the mention of Rick’s name, Randy squealed and ran to him. Rick bent and picked him up.

“Did you get in some messy trouble, little guy?”

Gwen smiled. “He thought that blueberry pie was a finger food and got it all over himself. I had to change his shirt and scrub his face and hands.”

“He comes by it honest, though,” Bertha remarked. “Remember when his dad tangled with a dead steer, and lost?”

Everyone laughed, except Rick who only smiled and look uncomfortable.

“I’ll go see what’s keeping Hal.” Bertha climbed the stairs and found him lurking in the hallway. “Rick’s down there waiting for you.”

Hal seemed reluctant to move. “How’s he acting?”

“Like he’s in some sort of a daze. Like he really didn’t notice any of us.”

Hal sighed. “Oh, boy! Now, what? Could you tell what’s bothering him?”

Bertha shrugged. “Hard telling. There’s a lot of it been going around lately.”

Hal looked puzzled. “Huh? I swear, Bertha, I don’t know what you’re driving at half of the time.”

And Bertha wasn’t about to explain it to Hal, either. Apparently, he didn’t realize he’d been walking around in the same dazed, absent-minded condition himself.

“Well, we better get on downstairs before they start to wonder what happened to us and send out a posse.”

Hal hurried down the steps and across the living room. “Ready to go, kid?” he mumbled in Rick’s general direction.

Rick smiled shyly, untangled himself from Dodie and Randy, and paid them no further attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” Hal jerked to a stop. “Hear that, Dodie? That’s what you’re suppose to say to me when I ask you something instead of ‘Yeah.’”

“Sir? But you’re Pops.”

“I’m not going to win around here. I’m surrounded by too many women. This is no place for us men.” He finally looked at Rick, and his face softened into a smile. “Come on, kid. Let’s get out of here. They can have the house. We’ll take the car anytime, right?”

Rick’s eyes sparkled. “Right.” He grabbed the thermos of coffee and left with Hal.

Gwen joined Bertha at the bottom of the stairs, and they stared at the closing front door.

“What was that all about, Bertha?”

“Beats me.”

“Did you notice the change in Rick when he saw Uncle Hal? He almost lit up?”

“Well, how about Hal? I think he likes being a hero.”

“A what?”

“I’ll explain it over the dishes. You know, I’d give a month’s pay to find out what happened between those two at Rick’s place Wednesday night.”

“And what didn’t happen. Uncle Hal acted like he didn’t want to face Rick. That’s the same way Rick acted toward him last Saturday night. But they seemed friendly enough to each other when they left just now.”

Bertha sighed. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll probably never know all the details about it. But, if they make peace between themselves, I’ll be happy for that much. Come on, those dishes won’t wash themselves.”

 

The familiarity of the squad car reduced the feeling of shyness between Hal and Rick as they automatically fell into the routine of another Saturday night patrol.

“Quiet out,” Hal commented.

“Yeah.”

“Think we’ll take a spin through the boondocks.” As farms sped by, Hal worked up the courage to ask what was really on his mind. “Everything alright at home?”

Rick nodded. “Dad hasn’t mentioned what happened Wednesday. Generally, he apologizes for getting drunk and doing something foolish. Maybe this time, he isn’t sorry for what he did. I don’t know. I just can’t seem to talk to him about anything anymore. He seems to be brooding about something. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t care if he hurts me or not.”

“You watch yourself around him. I saw what he did to you once with his hands. If it ever happens again, I’ll put him in jail for keeps, after I get finished with him.”

“Don’t try it.”

“I won’t hurt him too much.”

“He can take care of himself.”

“I can, too, kid!” Hal thought it over for a minute. “Sorry. I guess that was a warning, wasn’t it? He is a pretty husky guy. All right, I’ll be careful. But I guess I should be the one telling you to watch out, shouldn’t I? I hope I never have reason to go after him. And it’s not because I don’t want to tangle with him, either.”

Before Rick could reply, the radio crackled: “Base to Mobile One. Bad car wreck north of Braddyville on 16, Hal.”

“Oh, Lord,” Hal mumbled under his breath as he reached for the microphone. “How bad, Helen?”

“Three cars and a mini-bus collided at a crossroads in a chain reaction crash. A farmer called it in. He was an eyewitness. Says it looks like a battlefield out there. The mini-bus was loaded with a young people’s church group on a singing tour from Arkansas. There’s a lot of victims. Happened about five minutes ago. Lucky thing you’re headed that way. Our ambulances are behind you.”

“Notify our mortuaries and the Springfield hospital. If there’s that many victims, we’ll need all the ambulances we can get. Mobile One clear.” Hal hung up the mike, turned on his red light and siren, and stepped down on the gas pedal. “Well, kid,” he said grimly. “You’re finally going to get to see what the judge wanted you to see.”

Rick glanced at Hal, but said nothing.

“Sounds like it’s going to be a mess up there. I’ll never understand some folks’ fascination with disaster. They like wrecks and fires. Me, I’d rather be going the other way. I guess the same thing draws them that makes people laugh when someone else falls down. They’re just so damned happy it didn’t happen to them.”

Less than ten minutes later, they arrived at the wreck sit. Rick was startled by the enormity of the multiple-car collision. The farmer had been right. The scene did look like a battlefield.

Two cars had their front ends locked together, and the third had rolled into a ditch. The mini-bus was cut in half. Several people were standing around, and the injured lay all over the highway. Passing cars had parked along the roadside. Their headlights gave an eerie, artificial glow to the whole area.

“Help where you can,” Hal told Rick as they stepped out of the squad car. “Make them comfortable and tell them to lie still. The doctors will be here in a few minutes.”

“Officer!” a man yelled as he ran up. “There’s a guy bleeding real bad over here. Can you stop the flow of blood?”

Hal grabbed the arm of a dazed young woman as she wandered by. “Do you have a sanitary pad in your purse, miss? I need it for emergency treatment.”

She stared at Hal as if she didn’t understand, then dug in her purse and gave him what he asked for.

“This way, officer!” 

Hal followed the running man.

Alone, Rick stared at the twisted rubble of once beautiful and expensive cars and tried to make some sense out of what he was seeing. He listened to the moans of the injured, the crying of the less injured, and the awesome silence of death that hung over the whole scene. There was a feeling of the unreal, of a nightmare gone wild, of a universe that had ceased to exist except for this garish drama.

Rick stopped a woman who stumbled past him. “Ma’am. Ma’am you might be injured. Why don’t you sit down and wait for the ambulance?”

The middle-aged woman stared at him critically, adjusted the fur coat draped over her shoulders, and continued her aimless walking. Her face was hard and emotionless.

“Ma’am.” Rick touched her shoulder. “Ma’am, please.”

“What do I care about myself?” she snapped. “My husband is lying back there, dead. He lived through the Normandy Invasion and the Battle of the Bulge. And for what? To die out here in the middle of nowhere? I don’t even know where we are. I don’t even know the name of the little town we--“ She frowned, as if finally realizing a truth. “The little town I just passed through.” She looked up at Rick with a complacent face. “I. I have to learn to say ‘I’ now, don’t I? No more ‘we.’” Talking to Rick had given perspective back to the woman, and she even managed a fleeting smile. “Thank you, young man. I have to take care of myself now, don’t I? After all, there are still my children and grandchildren. They couldn’t lose both of us at once.” She sat down on the concrete and began to weep.

Rick approached the two cars locked together to see if he could help. One driver, his balding head shining in the moonlight, held his mouth open in a grimace of death and stared bug-eyed into the night sky. Rick stumbled away, but stopped when he saw an elderly woman lying on the pavement. Her limbs jerked convulsively in a macabre dance of death.

Rick picked his way through debris to the second car and slid in something. He caught himself by grabbing the side of the car and looked down to see what was so slick.

Good God, blood. A whole pool of it was clotting on the road. It formed a puddle around the twisted body of a teenaged girl wrapped in a tan balmacaan. Rick frowned. She needed help. The girl’s main trouble was that she had no head. That lay a few feet away from her body. Her long, dark hair trailed through the softly thickened blood and over the dry grass. Her sightless brown eyes stared at Rick with agony and surprise. He couldn’t look away. She’d been beautiful, beautiful….

“Are any of these people alive?” Hal asked in Rick’s ear. “Christ, what a mess! That mini-bus was torn all to hell. There’s dead kids everywhere. Some living ones are still trapped in the wreckage. I don’t know what the hell’s keeping those doctors and ambulances.” Puzzled by the lack of response, he eyed Rick and saw the stunned, vacant look on his face. “Medina? What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

“Look. At that.” Rick pointed.

In the moment of quiet, the sounds of other people talking came to Rick. But Hal was silent.

“My, God! No wonder you’re stunned. Stop looking at her!” Hal hooked his arm around Rick’s slim waist and pulled him away.

Rick tried to turn and point. “The, the girl. She’s hurt.”

Hal pushed the stumbling boy forward as Rick struggled against his shoulder. Rick’s eyes looked young and frightened as they tried to focus on Hal’s somber face.

“That girl, we have to stop her bleeding,” Rick pleaded.

“It’s stopped,” Hal answered grimly. “Her heart isn’t pumping anymore.”

“But, we have to help her!”

Hal stopped. “We can’t. She’s dead. We have to help the living ones.” He pushed Rick onward, away from the horror. But it was if he couldn’t find anywhere away from the devastation all around them. “ I can’t do it all by myself, kid. Snap out of it and help me.”

Rick fought Hal’s pushing arm. “Help her first!”

Hal stopped and shook him. “Snap out of it, damn it! Wake up!”

Rick tried to slip out of Hal’s grasp, but Hal grabbed him and slapped him hard across the face. Rick blinked.

“She’s dead, boy! She’s dead! There isn’t anyone who can help her now!” Hal felt like bawling at the loss of innocence he was watching.

Rick’s eyes cleared, and shock could no longer protect him from cold reality. His eyes turned up and he started to fall, but Hal caught him. A shudder rocked Rick as he hid his face against Hal’s shoulder and clung to him.

“I can’t do it. I can’t do it,” he whimpered. “It’s too awful to see.” His hand convulsed across Hal’s chest and twisted Hal’s collar.

Rick’s body felt small and without substance in Hal‘s arms. His muscles and bones had melted into jelly. All semblance of a civilized human’s pride vanished as a sniveling, primitive animal cowered against Hal for protection.

Hal felt embarrassed for Rick. “Get a hold of yourself, damn it! Straighten up! People are watching!”

Rick’s only answer was to burrow further against Hal. The boy trembled in fright.

“Hell!” Hal gave in and pulled his arms around Rick. He shut the world away from Rick.

A great anger built within Hal. The kid shouldn’t have to suffer like this! He pulled Rick closer still.

“Office, can you come….”

“In a minute. Give me a minute.” Hal grimly compressed his lips and absently patted Rick’s back. “It’s okay, kid. You’re okay now.” The shaking under his hands gradually subsided. “Damn it! This isn’t any place for you. Go sit in the car and monitor the calls.”

Unaware of his own tears, Rick pushed out of Hal’s arms. “But….”

Hal was touched by the frightened, childlike face looking up at him so earnestly. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

Rick wiped the back of his hand across his eyes to clear them. “I’ll be alright now.”

“No. You’ve seen enough. Go on now. I have to get back to work.” He reached into his hip pocket. “Here. Here’s a clean hankie. Clean yourself up.” He turned back to the wreck.

Humiliated, Rick mopped his face and started toward the patrol car. He’d gone only a few feet when he discovered a young woman lying in the tall grass of a grader ditch.

She tried to rise, but her broken leg was too painful. She pulled at weeds, trying to cover herself. “Please don’t look! My skirt. It all ripped off, and my panties, too. Please, don’t look!” She tried to drag herself away.

“Don’t move,” Rick said gently. “I won’t look at you. Here. I’ll cover your legs with my jacket, and you won’t have to worry about anyone seeing you.”

She started to weep. “There was one man here a few minutes ago. He just stood there and stared. He said, he said I’d be a good lay if I wasn’t all busted up.”

Rick felt anger toward the unknown man, but kept his voice calm. “Shh. It’s alright now. He’s gone.” He softly patted her hair. “He won’t bother you anymore. Just rest. Does anything else hurt besides the leg?”

“I don’t think so. Just some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious.” She managed a smile. “You’re nice to help me. I appreciate it. But you’re awfully young to be out here, aren’t you? I’m nineteen, and I think you’re younger than me. Were you in the wreck, too?”

“I’m seventeen, and I wasn’t in the wreck. I came with the county sheriff.”

“I was riding in the mini-bus.” Her eyes slid toward the twisted metal heap. “I’m from Fort Smith. We were all friends. Most of us grew up together….”

He squeezed her hand. “Don’t think about it.” He paused. “Hear that? The ambulances are coming.”

She smiled through her tears. “Thank you. I’ll be okay now. Go help the others. Go help my friends.”

He looked into her eyes and squeezed her hand again. When he stood up, he saw a familiar face. “Mrs. Marshall, can you come here a moment?”

The kindly faced, middle-aged lady hurried to Rick’s side and grabbed his arm. “Why, Rick Medina! Whatever are you doing out here? Don’t tell me you were in another wreck!”

“No, Mrs. Marshall, I wasn’t. I was riding with Sheriff Endicott when the call came through about this accident. Mrs. Marshall, there’s a young lady down here who’s been injured and can’t move. I wonder if you’d stay with her until the doctor sees her.”

“Of course, I will! Why, you poor thing! You just lie still and don’t fret now! I’ll be glad to stay with her, Rick. You just go ahead and do what you have to do.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Marshall. The sheriff did want me to get back to the radio and monitor the calls.”

The young girl from Arkansas smiled up at Rick again. “Thank you, Rick Medina. Cheryl Redding says thanks.”

Rick gave her a thin smile. “Good luck, Cheryl.”

Ambulances dived everywhere for parking spaces. The air was lacerated by the battle cries of their sirens. White jacketed attendants scurried from one injured person to another.

Rick picked his way through the mass of people, chunks of metal, and the all-too-common sight of blood. But he felt detached from all of the horror around him. His finite mind, engorged with too many impressions, refused to accept any more horror or to make him aware of what he was seeing. He was immune to the cries of the dying. He’d seen too much too quickly. Now, he understood how combat soldiers could become numbed and indifferent to bleeding and killing, even if it was friends who were being maimed.

The only thing that caught his attention was a bystander who chatted and laughed merrily with a friend. Rick couldn’t see what they thought was so funny. They gave a cheap, almost circus atmosphere to the tragic scene. Next, he expected to see someone selling popcorn and souvenir programs.

When Rick reached the patrol car, he found a small, blonde-haired boy standing beside it.

“Hi, there.”

“Are you the police man?” the little boy asked in awe.

Rick grinned as he bent. “No, but I know him.”

“Is he a good police man?”

“The best.”

“Phew! Am I glad! Mama said I should always look for a police man when I couldn’t find her.”

A wrinkle creased Rick’s forehead. This child’s mother could be severely injured or dead. Whatever, Rick had to keep him from wandering around the wreck site. He might get injured or see something that would haunt his dreams forever.

Rick touched the child’s arm. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

The little boy shook his head.

“I’m tired, aren’t you? How would you like to sit in a real patrolman’s car with me?”

The little boy grinned and nodded eagerly. Rick picked him up and carried him into the car.

“Wow!” He exclaimed as he sat on Rick’s lap. “Look at all the lights!”

“I’m Rick. What’s your name?”

“Cory.”

“How old are you, Cory?”

Cory held up four fingers and part of his thumb. “Four-and-a-half!”

“I know another little boy like you, but he’s younger.”

“Is he your brother?”

“No. He’s the son of the policeman. His name is Randy.”

“Do you play games with him?”

“Base to Mobile One,” the radio crackled. “Come in, Hal.”

“Yes, I do.” Rick reached for the mike. “I have to answer this call. Mobile One here. This is Rick. Come back, Base.”

“Do you need more ambulances out there, Rick? Henderson County is standing by with theirs if Hal needs them.”

“I don’t think so, Helen. He hasn’t requested any.”

“What does it look like out there?”

“A mess. Several dead. People hurt everywhere.”

“Glad I’m not there. Call if you need anything. Base clear.”

“Will do, Base. Mobile One clear.”

Hal opened the car door. “Oh, here he is. Lucky you found him. Cory? Your mama wants to see you.”

But Cory shrank against Rick for security. “Mama?”

“That’s right. She’s waiting for you.”

Cory shook his head. “Mama’s dead! I saw her. She wouldn’t wake up. She’s dead.”

“No, she isn’t. She was unconscious, but now she’s awake and wants to see you. She’s worried about you and won’t go in the ambulance until she sees you’re safe.” Hal held out his hands. “Come on, son. Let’s go find her.”

“No!”

“Listen to me, Cory,” Rick said. “This is the policeman who drives this car. He doesn’t tell lies. If he says your mama is alive, then she is.”

Still, the little boy refused to budge.

“Do you want me to take you to the ambulance?” Rick asked. “I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to.”

The little boy nodded, and Hal escorted them through the chaos. Cory clung tightly to Rick’s neck as they wove between the cars and doctors and people lying on litters.

“Cory!” a woman called from a stretcher. She was propped up on one elbow and smiling at her son.

The little boy grinned and wiggled out of Rick’s arms.

“Thank you,” the happy woman said as she looked around Cory’s head. “Thank you, both of you. He’s so young. He could’ve wandered off. But you found him and took care of him. Oh, thank you so much!”

“He found us, ma’am,” Rick replied in a quiet voice. “You taught him right. He went looking for a policeman when he needed help.”

The woman bit her lips together as tears began to flow. She kissed her son’s cheek and hugged him.

Cory grinned at Rick. “Goodbye, Mr. Police Man.”

“I think he means you, kid,” Hal said at Rick’s elbow. He stared at Rick who smiled wistfully and waved at Cory. “He thinks you’re a cop. How come?”

Rick gave Hal a blank look. “I couldn’t destroy his mother’s teachings, could I?”

Hal followed Rick away from the ambulance. “When did you become such a hardy supporter of the police department?” Mocking sarcasm reflected in his voice. “What struck?”

Uncomprehending, Rick stared at him. “That kid, Cory, he’s just like Randy, only older. I wouldn’t want Randy lost and stumbling around in a mess like this, either, would you?”

Hal was taken aback and nodded dumbly. He walked beside Rick in silence. Finally, he spoke. “You’re good with little kids. Randy and Dodie seem to think a lot of you. What’s your secret?”

“I don’t treat them like kids. They’re people, too, the same as adults. I won’t treat anyone like a kid, unless he acts like one. That goes for adults, too.”

“I think it’s more than that. You care what happens to them, and a kid can sense that. Cory could. My kids do. By the way, thanks, thanks for helping my kids. I should’ve said that sooner, but I didn’t know if you wanted to hear it. From me, that is.”

Rick stared at Hal as if he couldn’t quite understand Hal’s words, then his eyes cleared. “You don’t owe me any thanks. I did it for your kids, not for you.”

Hal looked away. “I didn’t know. For sure.”

Rick knew he’d hurt Hal’s feelings, and he felt ashamed of himself. “I didn’t mean that. I did it for me as much as for anybody else. I thought you’d treat me better if you felt obligated to me. I’m sorry I tried to make Lori’s death up to you through Dodie and Randy. I like them too much to use them that way anymore. I’ll stay away from them if that’s what you want.”

“That isn’t what I want, at all. My kids would never forgive me, and neither would Bertha.”

Rick sidestepped twisted metal and brushed Hal’s arm. At Rick’s touch, the memory of Rick clinging to Hal returned with sharp awareness. He thought he could never be that protective toward Rick. And it was a better feeling than the pity he’d experienced the afternoon Bert frightened the girls.

“Look, kid, we got off to a bad start. But I think it’s about time we stopped chewing on each other. I don’t know about you, boy, but my teeth are getting worn down into my gums. Truce?”

“Truce,” Rick answered demurely. “I’m not ready for false teeth, myself.”

Hal’s eyes twinkled at Rick, and the same feeling of shyness crept over them that they’d experienced earlier in the evening.

A patrolman called Hal aside and conferred with him. Rick waited. When Hal returned, he was businesslike again.

“They don’t need us, anymore. The highway patrol will clean up. Let’s get out of here. I’ve seen enough blood for one night. I’m ready to wrap it up. Watch out!” He caught Rick’s arm and yanked Rick backwards.

The breeze off the passing ambulance fanned their faces.

Hal loosened his grip on Rick’s arm. “I just got through saying I’d seen enough blood for one night. You better wake up, kid. You almost walked into the side of that moving ambulance. One thing we don’t need around here is any more victims.”

The last of the ambulances loaded with dead bodies left for the mortuary. The vehicle’s red light and siren were turned off.

“No need for them to be in a hurry,” Hal said. “Watch your step. There’s junk everywhere. Well, at least Cory and his mother came out of the wreck okay. Some of the others aren’t so lucky. Seven dead and four others who probably won’t live through the night. Oh, here’s your jacket. The little gal said you were real nice to her.”

Rick took the jacket. “I, I’m sorry I goofed up.”

“Who said you goofed up? Sure, you got shook there for a minute when you saw that dead girl. That’d shake anyone up. But you helped that other girl with the broken leg and took care of Cory. There was nothing wrong with you then. Hell, at my first car wreck, I became one of the victims. I got all numb and blacked out.”

“Blacked out?”

“Yeah. I felt like I’d made a regular ass out of myself. But Pete Rollins, he was sheriff then, he said there was nothing to be ashamed of. He said the time to worry was when sudden death didn’t upset a guy and it didn’t bother him anymore. When he stopped caring, he stopped being human. Then he couldn’t be any good at his job anymore. To be a good cop, you gotta care.” He looked at Rick over the top of the squad car. “When you start seeing accident victims as just so many statistics or slabs of meat instead of individual people, then you’re not much of a person and less of a cop. I never got used to needless slaughter, not even over in Korea during the war. None of it makes any sense.” He stirred himself out of his reverie. “Sermon over. Get in the car, kid.”

They drove away from the scene of the accident. Hal reported in, then the car quieted. They passed through the village of Braddyville where everything was closed for the night. Neither one spoke a word. Hal’s occasional side glances showed Rick staring at the dashboard.

They’d traveled barely a mile beyond Braddyville when Rick said, “Stop.” He walked behind the patrol car and vomited. Then he cleaned himself up and got back into the car.

Back in Beardsley, Hal stopped at the Dairy Diner and brought back two plastic cups. He handed one to Rick.

“Here. Drink it. It’ll help settle your stomach.”

Rick tasted the fizzing liquid. It was 7-Up.

“Do you ever get used to it?”

Hal sipped his 7-Up. “Bad car wrecks? No. But I don’t throw up as much anymore. This stuff helps. I buy a lot of it. The worst part, though, is the nightmare.”

“The nightmare?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to scare you any, but you better know what might happen. You might be lucky and not dream. Me, I see the whole wreck all over again in my sleep. Only this time I’m powerless to help anybody. It’s not that I can’t, I just don’t know what to do. They scream, but I just stand and watch them suffer. It’s worse than the real wreck and scares the hell out of me. So, I try not to sleep.”

“How long can you go on like that?”

“About two nights. By then, I’m so tired, I don’t dream. At least, I don’t remember dreaming.”

“Then, why be a cop?”

“Somebody has to, and I guess I’m it.”

“But nobody likes a cop.”

“Yeah, I know. I make people nervous. They think I’m going to jump down their throats if they look sideways at me. Take most of the people in this parking lot with us right now. They’d feel a whole lot better if I’d just move along. So, I’ll accommodate them.” He guided his car into the street. “You get to feeling like the whole world is prejudiced about cops. Then you meet people like Cory and his mother, and they make up for all those insensitive idiots. Cops are just people, too.”

Hal stopped the squad car in front of Rick’s house.

“Well, you finally saw what D.L. wanted you to see. I hope it wasn’t too rough a lesson.”

“I won’t speed or take unnecessary chances again, that much I know.”

“It’s past eleven. You better try to get some rest.”

Rick still didn’t move. Then, when he finally started to get out, he glanced back at Hal. “That girl tonight. The dead one with no head. She looked just like Lori.”

Hal’s face whitened. “My God, you’re right!”

Hal drove two blocks down the street before he had to stop and vomit, too.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Hal returned to Rick’s house.

“Is your father here?”

Rick shook his head.

“I’ve been all over town and couldn’t see him.”

“Sometimes he goes over to Springfield with some of his cronies. They were visiting him when I left tonight.”

“Can you get in touch with him?”

“Not unless I call every honky-tonk in Springfield. And then he might not come to the phone. Why?”

“Get your things together. You’re going to stay over at my place.”

“Huh?”

“Grab your pajamas and a change of clothes. I’ll leave a note for your father.”

“He’ll get real mad when he finds out….”

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight, not after seeing that wreck. Your father will understand that and agree with me.”

“That wouldn’t make any difference to him,” Rick said as he walked into his bedroom and began to rustle around in a drawer. “He’ll be mad that someone found out he wasn’t here. He doesn’t care where I go or what time I get in, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know what goes on around here. He doesn’t want anyone to judge him.”

“Tonight, there’s more to consider than his feelings,” Hal mumbled as he wrote the note.

“What?!” Rick called from his bedroom closet.

“Nothing! Don’t forget your toothbrush!”

Rick reappeared with a duffel bag in one hand and his jacket in the other, and he left with Hal.

“Seems he’d understand this situation,” Hal mumbled as he drove down the street.

“He gets defensive. His accident at the plant and then Mother’s leaving make him awfully touchy. He can get real mad.”

“He wouldn’t try to punch you out because I’m doing this, would he? Like I said before, be careful around him.”

“You misunderstood me earlier when I said he doesn’t mind hurting me. I meant emotionally, not physically. He’s changed since the girls saw him drunk. Before, he couldn’t do enough for me. Now, he’s just, I don’t know, indifferent. Like he doesn’t care anymore. He hasn’t even tried to make it up to me like he always does. I think he’s got some big problem, but he won’t even discuss it with me. Look, I still have to live with him. Maybe I better go back home. I’ll be okay.”

“If there’s any trouble, I’ll tell him I forced you to come along with me. Doc Murphy will agree medically, and Judge Farley will back us up legally. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You don’t have any say in the matter.” He lost himself in thought. “I got to thinking about my first wreck. I sure as hell didn’t want to be alone that night. You won’t be, either.”

Rick sighed and relaxed. Hal pretended not to notice.

Hal had phoned ahead, and Bertha was waiting for them at the kitchen door. She hustled Rick inside.

“Get in a tub of hot water, and I’ll put your clothes through the automatic,” she directed. “Here’s Hal’s famous plaid robe. You can undress in my bathroom and bathe upstairs. Give me that jacket first. It’s pretty dirty.”

Rick took off his jacket and noticed the dried blood smeared across the back. “Where did this come from?” He intently examined the dark brown stains. At the scene of the accident, the terror of the multiple collision had been mercifully numbed by its magnitude. But in the familiar surroundings of the Endicott’s kitchen under the brightness of the overhead light, the glaring reality of Death confronted him. “It’s that dead girl’s blood, isn’t it?” He said hollowly. “The one without the head.”

Bertha caught her breath and frowned.

Hal crossly grabbed the jacket. “No, it isn’t! It’s probably mine. I cut my arm on a piece of metal out there. I held you up, remember? I kept you from falling. That’s when I must’ve bled on your jacket, before I got bandaged. You never touched that girl!”

Rick stared at the bandage on Hal’s forearm. “You bled, and you’re still alive. There wasn’t one drop of blood on Lori. Not one.” He looked up with wide, questioning eyes. “So she can’t be dead, can she?”

Hal dropped his mouth open as he stared at Rick, and then he turned in confusion to Bertha for help.

“Must be delayed shock,” she murmured to Hal as she took Rick’s arm. She marched the wooden Rick upstairs and into Hal’s bedroom. “Forget the bath. Get into your pajamas and under the covers.”

She sat beside him on the bed and gave him a spit bath with her handkerchief to remove smudges of dirt and blood from his face. “Things will look better in the morning.”

Rick’s eyes were still vacant. “I never saw Lori after the ambulance took her away. Maybe she isn’t dead, at all.” He looked at Bertha hopefully. “She isn’t dead, is she? They’ve got her somewhere, and someday she’ll be okay, won’t she?”

Bertha grabbed Rick’s shoulders in her strong hands. “No, Rick, she’s dead. I know Lori didn’t look dead, but she was just as dead as that young girl tonight.”

“No! No….” He tried to pull away from Bertha, but she forced him to look at her.

“Listen to me, Rick. They’re gone. They’re both gone. They were young, and it’s a shame. But that’s it. And there’s nothing we can do to bring them back.”

“But, if Lori was still alive, if she came home, then her dad wouldn’t hate me anymore.”

Bertha frowned, but a new understanding came into her eyes. “He’s a hard man, Rick, but I don’t think he hates you. Maybe he thinks he should. But, deep down, Hal Endicott can’t hate anything. Being thrown together with you is probably tearing him up more than you realize. He doesn’t know how to treat you. I, for one, don’t know how he’s doing as well as he is. I couldn’t be that objective.”

“That’s why I shouldn’t even be here, not at his place.” He looked around wildly. “Not in his bed!”

“Do you know where he stayed the night after he saw his first big wreck? With his father. They sat up together. Hal couldn’t find yours tonight, so he thought he’d substitute. Now, that can’t be so bad, can it? Why do you think he brought you here? Because he had to? Hardly. The Law made no demands on him after he turned you loose. He’s doing this on his own. Look, I might criticize him to his face, but he’s one of the finest people I know. And one of the loneliest and least understood. I guess that’s why I stay here. He’s not so tough. I see through his bluff, and I want to help him. He might crash around like a chained bull and act like an old grouch, but he won’t let you suffer alone. He knows what effect that wreck might have on you. He’s trying to help you, Rick. Let him. Don’t be so hard on him.”

Rick’s eyes glazed again with the vacant stare. “But I don’t deserve his help, not after what happened to Lori.”

“You can’t stop living because Lori’s gone. You have to go on. People need you.”

Pain replaced his vacant stare. “Nobody needs me.”

“What do you mean, nobody needs you? We all need you, Rick. You’re very important to us.”

“No, I’m not.” But his hopeful eyes showed he wanted to believe what she was saying.

She stroked his velvet cheek with her big, rough thumb. “You’re a fine young man, Rick Medina. And I’m glad I know you. We are your friends, and don’t you ever forget it. Trust us, Rick. You’ve helped us so much already. Now let us help you. You don’t ever have to feel alone as long as we’re around.”

Rick stared into her dark eyes, then reached for her hand.

 

Later, Bertha found Hal drinking coffee in the semi-dark living room.

“He’s asleep.”

“That’s good.” Hal made a face as he took another sip of coffee. “I’m going to have to stop drinking this stuff.”

“I’ll fix you a bed on the couch, Hal, and I’ll sit up with Rick.”

“No. You go on to bed. I’ll stay with him. He might be restless all night. I never sleep well after these things, anyway. You might as well get some rest.” He glanced at her. “Uh, did he say any more about Lori?”

“Yes. He’s still brooding about the accident. Her death must’ve been quite a shock to him. He thought a great deal of her, too. Somehow, I think if he could, he’d trade places with her. So many people loved Lori and miss her, but he thinks nobody would miss him.”

“That kid, and his death wish! He thinks dying would solve all his problems and whitewash his mistakes.”

“He sounds like a suicide, Hal.”

“Him? Nah! He’s too young.”

“He’s old enough. Life’s pretty bleak for him. Suicide might seem to be the only answer to his problems.”

“So, he’s been crying on your shoulder, eh?”

“I only wish he had. He might’ve felt better. No, he didn’t confide all that to me. I figured it out on my own. But I think he’s very grateful you brought him here tonight. And so am I. There’s hope for you, yet. You’re earning the right to keep that badge.”

“Well, if you approve, my day is made.”

She waved him away with a snort.

“You go on to bed now, and I’ll stay with the kid.”

In his bedroom, Hal wrapped himself in a blanket and settled in the overstuffed chair by the window. No sound came from Rick asleep in the bed. And all Hal could see were tousled dark blonde hair and a hand fiercely grasping a pillow.

Deep in the night, Hal awoke with a start. Someone was shaking his shoulder. In the half-light from the streetlamp, he could see a shadowy form standing beside him.

“Wake up,” Rick said. “You’re dreaming.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Hal mumbled as he shifted in the chair. “Guess I dropped off.” He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that nearly three hours had passed.

“Do you need anything?”

Hal felt out of sorts. “I’m supposed to ask you that! Get back to bed. It’s chilly in here.”

Bare feet padded across the carpet, the bed creaked, and the room quieted. Both stared at strange objects that in daylight would become familiar pieces of furniture.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Rick answered softly.

“You been asleep all this time?”

“Yeah. Until you started hollering.”

“Hope I didn’t wake the other kids up.”

“You weren’t that loud. It was more like you were whimpering, or begging. Like you were lost.”

“I probably was. Nightmares are hell.”

“Well, if it happens again, I’ll just wake you up again.” Rick turned over. “Good night, Sheriff.”

Rick’s amiability startled Hal for a moment. “Good night, Medina,” he mumbled.

Rick obviously was calmed and could sleep well. Hal turned and found he had no trouble sleeping, either.

 

Hal awoke with a start. What was that sound? And why in the hell was he sitting in a chair when his comfortable bed was only a few feet away? Hal stretched his cramped body and groaned. He hurt in a dozen places.

Then Hal heard the sound again, and he remembered that Rick Medina lay asleep in his room. Dawn was seeping through the windows as Hal looked at the dark mass quivering and jerking in his bed.

Rick moaned and softly cried, “No! No!”

Hal pulled himself out of his chair, clutched his blanket around himself, and stumbled on stiff legs across the room.

Rick thrashed on the bed and whimpered. Hal sighed as he looked down at the young face twisted in agony. He knew what he had to do.

Hal dropped heavily on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes to clear them. He still wasn’t fully awake.

“Kid. Hey. Come on. Wake up now. You’re dreaming.”

Rick snapped his head from side to side on the pillow. “No!” he sobbed. “Help her!”

“Hell,” Hal muttered. He shook Rick’s shoulder. “Come on, Medina. Wake up. You’re dreaming. Rick. Hey, Rick! It’s over. We aren’t at the wreck anymore. You’re dreaming.”

Rick’s eyes flew open, and Rick stared wildly at Hal. Recognition flickered across the boy’s face, and he threw his arms around Hal’s waist.

Hal sat thunderstruck, his arms limp as Rick burrowed into his chest.

“She’s dead!”

Hal forgot his amazement. He slid his arms around Rick’s shaking shoulders. “Ssh! It’s alright. It’s alright. Nobody could help her.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t blame yourself, son. It was an accident. You weren’t responsible for it.”

“But Lori’s dead!”

Hal froze. Lori?! He thought Rick was dreaming about the decapitated girl. Roughly, he pushed Rick away.

“You’re okay now. Lie down and go back to sleep."

Rick scooted under the covers and fell quickly asleep.

Hal leaped off the bed and paced the floor for several minutes. Lori’s accusing face and Rick’s grasping arms haunted him. The living and the dead fought for his loyalty.

Could he ever forgive Rick for Lori’s death? A clear “no” had always seemed so easy before, but now Hal couldn’t say it.

A battle raged inside him. His heart felt ripped and torn bleeding from his chest cavity. Thongs of leather seemed to lash at him. Where could he find an answer?

Hal stopped rubbing the back of his head, looked down at the bed, and found his answer.

The face on the pillow glowed softly in the half-light of dawn. Rick looked like a child. His long, sooty eyelashes lay delicately on slightly flushed cheeks. Although tears dampened his face, a slight smile of contentment curved along his lips. He’d have no recollection of his nightmare or of Hal’s mistaken forgiveness.

But Hal would. He wrinkled his brow. Lori was in the cemetery beyond all human succor. But Rick was here, needing help and forgiveness.

Hal gently brushed scattered hair off Rick’s forehead. That front lock never could quite stay in place. Hal smiled. He remembered when he had luxuriant hair like that.

Rick sighed heavily and wrinkled his face as if he were in deep thought.

Hal touched that soft, elastic skin warmed by the blood rushing below its surface. He could feel life pounding in Rick’s temple. Hal’s rough hand cupped Rick’s cheek.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

The wrinkles smoothed out, and the young face looked pleasant.

Rick’s warm breath blew on Hal’s wrist. Here was Life. It wasn’t out in the cemetery.

“You’ve suffered enough. And who am I to punish you, anyway? Only God can do that. It’s between you and Him now. As for me, we’re square.”

When Hal realized what he’d said, his stroking hand froze over Rick’s face and began to tremble. He gasped and rushed blindly to the window where he stared, unseeing, at the gray world outside. He shook from the battle roaring inside him. Lori was his daughter, the child of his loins; but Rick….”

Hot tears burned Hal’s cheeks as he stared up into the sunlight firing the skies.

“Forgive me, Lori. I can’t hate him forever.”

He buried his face in the ninon curtain and wept great choking sobs. When he finished, a numbing tiredness stole over him. He collapsed into his chair and closed his heavy eyes. He felt exhausted. As sleep blotted out thought, he realized he’d reconciled the powerful feelings within him. Tomorrow, he’d have to think them through. Tomorrow….

The next time Hal awoke, the bedroom was bright with sunshine. Rick still lay tangled in the sheets. Hal carefully tiptoed out of the room. Rick never stirred.

Hal and Bertha were drinking coffee in the kitchen when they heard a door open and small feet pattering down the upstairs hallway.

“That’s Randy.” Hal set down his coffee cup. “I bet he’s on his way into my room. I better stop him. Rick’s still asleep.”

Bertha held up her hand. “Wait. Don’t holler. You’ll wake up the girls. Rick’s awake by now, anyway, if I know Randy. They’ll be down in a few minutes.”

They finished their coffee, but Randy and Rick still hadn’t joined them. Curious, they climbed the stairs and opened Hal’s bedroom door a crack. Randy lay in bed with his arms around Rick’s head. Rick’s face was hidden against Randy’s body, but his head was visible as it cradled Randy’s head. They were both asleep.

Hal grinned. “I’ll be darned!”

“There’s nothing as healing as the love of a small child,” Bertha murmured.

“What’s going on?” Gwen asked in a normal tone of voice behind them. “What are you looking at?”

She was immediately shushed. Hal and Bertha stood aside and showed her what they saw. She stared, amazed, and then smiled.

Bertha softly closed the bedroom door, then she and Hal had to start answering Gwen’s questions as they walked downstairs.

 

“But, don’t you remember?” Dodie prodded at the breakfast table. “You promised to go to church with us again.”

“Guess I forgot,” Rick mumbled. “Last Sunday seems like a long time ago.”

“Well, are you?”

“Don’t bother him, Dodie. He had a rough night.”

“I told him that you and Randy would go, too.”

“All of us in church together?” Hal felt depleted after last night. Church with the family might refresh him. “Alright. But you girls have to clear the table and get Randy ready.”

“Hooray! Come on, Gwen.”

“And just what will you two strong men be doing?”

“Why, getting ourselves ready, Gwen.”

“Knowing men, that will take a great strain off us.”

Hal gave her a stern look. ‘You’ve been around Bertha too long. Men don’t like sarcastic women.” He winked at Rick. “I bet Barry doesn’t.”

Gwen blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rick sat up with interest and grinned. “Barry Haywood?”

“Oh, you men! You’re both impossible. The table’s okay, Dodie. The dishes can soak.”

The teasing had pepped Rick up, and he bounced to his feet. “Guess I better go home and change if I’m going to church.”

“We’ll pick you up at your place,” Hal said. “That way you won’t have to walk back over here.”

“And you’re not getting out of dinner here this Sunday, either,” Dodie said. “Right, Pops?”

“That’s right. Bertha put another roast in the oven.”

“And she left pretty exact orders that you’re supposed to help eat it,” Gwen added.

“I sure wouldn’t want to make Bertha mad.” Rick’s eyes reflected his smile. “Guess I’ll be here for dinner.”

“Hooray!” Dodie cheered.

“Come on,” Hal urged as he swung open the living room door. “Let’s get ready.”

At that moment, something crashed against the house. The back door flew open and banged into the kitchen wall.

Hal spun. “What the….”

Bert Medina crouched in the doorway and growled like an enraged gorilla. “Now, ain’t this cozy!”

“What do you mean by bursting in here?!” Hal demanded as he crossed the room.

“And what do you mean by stealing my kid?!”

Hal stopped by Rick who stood wide-eyed and too startled to speak. “I left you a note explaining about the wreck, Medina. I couldn’t leave him alone after what he’d seen.”

“It ain’t just last night! It’s been weeks! He’d rather be here than at home! Well, it’s stopping right now! He’s coming home with me, and he’s staying there! A father still has some rights!” He grabbed Rick’s arm and jerked him forward.

Hal clamped his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “He’s not going anywhere with you until you cool down.”

“You taking over, Bull?!”

“I’m only protecting him.”

Bert shoved Rick against Hal. “Well, take him then! Go on! Take him! I’m washing my hands of him! Good riddance!”

“Dad….”

“Don’t you ‘dad’ me, you traitor! Got what you wanted, didn’t you? People catering to you, fussing over you, making you forget your own! Well, stay here if you want! Go to hell, if you want! Hunt up that damned mother of yours, if you want! I don’t care! I’m through with you! Don’t come crawling back to my place! I don’t want you around there anymore!” He charged out of the house and slammed the door. It bounced back open.

In the silence that followed, Gwen and Dodie stared at each other. Hal slowly released his savage hold on Rick’s shoulder. Randy began to whimper, not liking the shouting or the serious faces he saw.

Rick bent his head in shame. “I’m sorry Dad did that. I apologize.”

“We don’t blame you! Gwen, do something to stop Randy’s crying. Pick him up, or something. Where are going?!” Hal demanded as Rick headed for the open back door.

“Home.”

“But….”

“No, I have to. I just have to.”

“Don’t let him hurt you!”

“He won’t, Gwen. Not physically. He’ll probably act like I’m some stranger he has to tolerate.”

She touched his arm. “Don’t let him do this to you. Indifference will hurt worse than hard words.”

Dodie grabbed his hand. “Stay with us, Rick. I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you would, Dodie,” he whispered. “But he’s my dad. I just gotta. Please understand.” He left in a sea of quiet.

“Uncle Hal….”

“You girls get ready. I’ll drive you to church.”

“But--”

“Come on, Dodie,” Gwen urged.

They left Hal staring at the backdoor.


	14. The Truce

Rick knocked and walked into the Endicott kitchen at suppertime. At first stunned by his sudden appearance, everyone jumped up from the table, crowded around him, and bombarded him with questions.

“I’m okay. He didn’t touch me.”

“What happened?” Hal demanded.

“Nothing. Not a thing. He acts like I’m not there.”

Bertha led him to the table. “Before you say another word, sit down and eat. I’ll get you a plate.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

Hal drew out a chair. “Sit down. Everybody, sit down. We’ll finish supper.” He saw Dodie open her mouth and look at Rick. “No questions, Dodie. Let‘s just eat.”

“Your dad’s right, Dodie,” Bertha said. “We’ve been upset all day over what happened. We’ll all have indigestion if we keep talking about it.”

“I’m sorry I put all of you through this. I wouldn’t have come back tonight, but I thought you might be worried.”

“Of course, we were worried!” Bertha snapped. “I’m sure if we hadn’t heard from you before long, the Marines would’ve landed at your front door.” Her eyes slid toward Hal.

“Can I have more milk?” Hal asked as he pushed away his roast beef sandwich. His voice sounded querulous.

“Want your stomach medicine?”

“I don’t need that stuff!” Hal jumped up. “If I can’t have the milk, I’ll just go in the living room.” The door swung shut behind him.

Rick’s eyes followed him, then questioned Bertha. 

Bertha calmly refilled Hal’s glass. “Dodie, would you take this in to your dad, please?”

Rick waited until the door closed on Dodie. “Bertha, if I’m upsetting everyone this much, I better leave.”

Bertha waved him down. “Hal needs a little while to unwind and get composed. This is the first time since I got back from Mass this morning that I’ve seen the worry leave his face. Let him have a chance to settle down before you tear out of here again and leave everyone in an uproar.”

“I don’t want him to worry anymore. I can see what it’s done to him already.”

“Then eat some dinner so he won’t think you’re going hungry.”

“I didn’t want to cause any of you this trouble.”

“As your friends, we accept it. Now, stop apologizing. You and Hal had a pretty rough twenty-four hours. So, forget it. Take more potatoes. Fill out those bones a little.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t mind if you’re over here?”

“Not tonight, Gwen. Time will tell, but I think he’s trying to blot me out of his mind.”

“You don’t seem particularly sorry that he’s doing that.”

“Gwen!”

“She’s right, Bertha. And I guess Dad id right, too. I would rather be here than at home.”

Rick watched television with the Endicotts until nine o’clock. When he got up to leave, Hal offered to drive him home. Rick was surprised, because Hal had barely spoken to him or anyone else since supper.

Hal stopped the Chevy in front of Rick’s house and stared down the darkened street. The five-block ride from his home had passed in silence, but it hadn’t been a strained silence.

Rick waited. He knew Hal had been working himself up to say something all evening. 

“The other day I told you to stay with your father. Well, I’m retracting that. Don’t go by what I say. I can’t tell you what to do.”

Rick was disappointed. “Alright.”

Hal’s face twisted with the disgust he felt for himself. “I know that sounds like I don’t want to stick my neck out, and maybe I don’t. But I can’t take the responsibility of him hurting you.” Hal chewed his lip. “Damn it, it’s not the responsibility that bothers me. I can’t take the worrying. If I’d been sitting on a nest of eggs today, I would’ve hatched them this afternoon. If I wouldn’t have broken them first.” He knew it wasn’t funny when he said it, but it helped to calm him down.

“Look, kid, as a lawman, I know what my relationship is suppose to be with you. But I think this whole situation has gone beyond the boundaries of the law. Maybe that’s good, and maybe it’s bad. We should’ve stayed impersonal, and I expect we could’ve if you hadn’t met my family. But that can’t be changed now. Hell, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Look, so much has happened lately, I’m sure you’re all mixed up. I know I am. I don’t know what my feelings are anymore. I meant what I said last night, though. Let’s call a truce. Hell, I don’t mind if you spend time over at my place, as long as he doesn’t care.” He nodded toward Rick’s house. “Looks like he’s not at home.”

“Probably asleep.” He pushed down on the door handle.

“Do you have anything you want to say?”

Rick thought for a long time. “Just that I appreciate your fairness. I know how difficult it must be for you to have to deal with me.”

“Damn it, kid! Stop making me sound like the heel I’ve been. You’ve been a help to me. From the first patrol on. Even if I wouldn’t own up to it until now. I wish you’d been a stuck-up, snot-nosed brat that sat flat on his fanny. But the fact is, I couldn’t have gotten along without you. I owe you my thanks.”

Rick’s ears and cheeks burned. “That’s alright.”

Hal waited for Rick to say more and was disappointed when he didn’t.

“We’ll let it stand at that then.”

“Alright,” Rick mumbled. “Thanks for the ride.”

Long after the Chevy’s taillights disappeared down the street, Rick stared into the darkness where the two red orbs had glowed. He felt hollow inside again. Why couldn’t he answer Hal?

It’d been a beautiful apology. Rick wished he could’ve been as open with Hal.

 

Hal Endicott walked down the wide corridor of the new high school building. Bright October sunshine streamed through tall windows and tumbled into the hall through open classroom doors. Hal had attended school in the old, three-story brick building back on Elm Street in the center of the residential area. He still marveled at this new, one-story, cement block and glass structure on the edge of Beardsley where Tom Harrel used to raise prime Hereford cattle.

Whichever building was used, though, Hal imagined that the ebb and flow of students between classes remained the same. He had to imagine it because the halls were empty of students, even though it was the middle of the week.

On parent-teacher conference day, which this Wednesday was, classes were dismissed so that parents could collect first quarter report cards directly from each teacher a child had. That way, a parent could learn his child’s strengths and weaknesses in a course and how the child could be helped at home.

Hal stopped in front of the history room. A slim woman in her late thirties was leaving. She smiled up at him.

“Good morning, Sheriff.”

He nodded solemnly and touched the brim of his Stetson with his fingertips. “Morning, Miz Bourne.”

Hal stepped into the history room with its salmon colored plastic and compressed wood student desks. They looked so flimsy compared with the sturdy honesty of the oaken desks from Hal’s school days. And the teacher’s desk was a black metal affair on spindly legs emitting all the warmth and charm of the black metal, office efficient filing cabinet in the corner. Hal thought that old-fashioned oaken furniture gave a personal, homey touch to a classroom while the modern metals and synthetics transmitted nothing but a clinical feeling. Such furniture gave Hal a chill on even the warmest days.

“Good morning,” a monotone voice called in singsong tones. Hal turned, ready to return the greeting. But the teacher held up his hand for silence and didn’t look up. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he muttered as he furiously wrote at his desk. He pushed unruly black hair from his forehead and tried to create wrinkles on his smooth face by concentrating with a harried look. Hal thought the man couldn’t be old enough to teach; he seemed too young. 

And his attire was a uniform, more strict than Hal’s. Black horn rimmed glasses. Gray tweed sports coat with patches on the sleeves. Light blue shirt with black knit tie. Probably khaki slacks and tan buckskin loafers. Probably graduated from State and belonged to a fraternity and a bunch of left-wing political groups. Probably wrote bad love sonnets and pictured himself to be the next Shakespeare to emerge from the Great Plains of America. Probably couldn’t wait to hit Chicago and set the history department there on fire by writing the next definitive historical treatise about the American Civil War. Beardsley was just a bump on his highway to success. Hal knew the type and dismissed this example.

Hal glanced around the room. One thing he did like about modern classrooms was the wall decoration. In his day, George Washington complaisantly inspected something just over Hal’s head. Or The Dog of Flanders stared up with sorrowful eyes. All art back then seemed to be executed in sterling tones of gray or tan. Now, bright colors splashed across the classroom’s walls reminding the viewer that there was more to the world than rural Oklahoma. The pictures’ subjects ranged from dream castle places such as the Rhine River Valley in Germany to the exotic island paradises of Bora-Bora and Tahiti. Hal decided he’d like to study in a room surrounded with these interesting posters. On second thought, he’d probably do more dreaming about faraway places than studying.

“There, now,” the young teacher said in a faintly condescending voice as he carefully filed the paper away in a Manila folder. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.” He looked up from his desk, saw Hal’s uniform, and a subtle change came over his face. Wariness hardened his dark eyes, and he grinned nervously. “Oh. Sheriff Endicott. Do come in and have a chair. I hope this isn’t an official visit. Is it?”

Hal approached the desk, but didn’t sit down. He grabbed his gun belt with both hands and tried to draw up his sagging stomach. A rising coolness prevented him from smiling. “No, I’m here to collect report cards, just like everyone else.”

The teacher was noticeably relieved. “Oh, that’s good. One never knows what’s on the mind of the Law, does one?” He’d assumed his condescending voice again, but his nervousness was still evident as he rustled some loose papers. “I don’t have any report cards for Gwen. She isn’t one of my students. Lori used to be, but all of her material has been sent to the office.” He smiled too brightly. “Guess you didn’t have to stop at my classroom after all, Sheriff.”

Hal stared dully at the teacher. He knew he should put the younger man at ease. He knew the sternness of his profession gave him a dour look, which a lot of people misinterpreted and mistrusted. They saw not the man, but the uniform. And now, just the uniform of a policeman frightened this better educated man. Some cops would’ve enjoyed this power, but it simply angered Hal. The teacher was showing a form of prejudice. Hal loathed this type of person as much as people who had no respect for the Law at all.

“I’m collecting Rick Medina’s cards, too. And he is one of your students.”

“Rick? Medina?”

“That’s right. He father couldn’t be here, so I’ll take the cards in his place.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that would be possible.”

“Look, I’m Medina’s court appointed guardian. Mr. Grey, your principal, said it’d be okay. In fact, here’s a note from him.”

The teacher looked relieved. “Well, in that case, Rick’s card is right here, Sheriff. You must understand that I couldn’t hand out cards to just anyone, don’t you?”

“Sure. How’s he doing? This card says ‘C.’ That doesn’t tell me very much.”

“Oh, he’s like most of the other students. Their minds are other places. You know,“ he said off hand, “cars, dates, booze.”

“I don’t want to hear about other students. How’s Medina doing?”

“Well, personally, I think he’d be better off in auto mechanics. History is a waste of time for him.”

“Does he answer questions in class?”

“He generally knows the answer if I ask him a direct question, but he doesn’t contribute to a general discussion. He’s quiet.”

“Have you ever asked him why?”

“I think he doesn’t get along with the other students too well. He’s an outsider, you know. And as long as he’s quiet, I’m not going to stir him up. There are already too many hyperactive know-it-alls in class. You know whom I mean, Sheriff. They’re mostly the same punks that hotrod out on the highway and cause you so much trouble.”

“Yeah, punks like Doc Murphy’s boy and Sid Collins, the mayor’s son. They’re not all punks, Mr. Dolty, just kids seeing how far they can push us adults. Now, back to Medina. If his classroom work is okay, how come the ‘C?’ He must not do very well on tests, right?”

“He does okay on objective tests such as multiple choice or true-and-false, but he can’t express himself very well on essay questions. I think he knows the material, but he just can’t get the answers down on paper. Here, I’ll show you an example of his work. A rather poor example, too, I might add.” Dolty rummaged through a second Manila envelope. “I gave this test last Thursday. Rick nearly flunked it, as you can see. But read the essay part.”

Hal opened his eyes wide, then squinted. “I can’t read this scrawl.”

“Neither could I, and I pride myself on being able to decipher handwriting. But where I could read his writing, his ideas were incoherent and inconsistent.”

“How did this test affect his quarter grade?”

“I’m afraid it lowered it by a whole point. He had a weak ‘B’ going before the test.”

Hal glanced at the date on the top of the page. Last Thursday was the day after Bert got drunk and frightened Gwen and Dodie.

“I happen to know that a personal matter had Medina upset that day. Could he take the test over?”

“If I allowed that, every student who did poorly would ask for a make-up test. I’d spend more time retesting than teaching.”

“Even if there were unusual circumstances?”

“I realize that tests are a learning tool, Sheriff, but the grades have been recorded. Rick will simply have to do better next quarter. I can’t make exceptions.”

“But he has a helluva home life!”

The gentle Dolty blinked at Hal’s rough language.

“His drunken father went berserk last Wednesday afternoon and nearly hurt some people, including Rick. His mother deserted the family months ago. I thought you teachers were suppose to be interested in things like that!”

“We are, but we can’t baby students. Our present grading system is unfair, I’ll agree. But it’s the most expedient and judicious one we have. The quality of student home environment is not a factor. All I’m interested in is Rick’s test results, and you can see how poorly he’s performed.”

Hal fought down his rising anger. Alienating Dolty wouldn’t help his blood pressure or Rick’s grade. “I never was very good with the written word, myself. I think most guys who like tools and the out-of-doors feel awkward with a pencil in their hands.”

“That’s why I said Rick would do better if placed in auto mechanics. This history course is required for graduation, though.”

“Maybe his English teacher could help.”

“The good Lord knows Miss Pettigrew tries,” the teacher said with a facetious air. He was feeling braver with Hal since he’d won the argument over Rick’s grades. “She’s always assigning them exciting themes such as ‘Will the Real William Shakespeare Please Stand Up?’ or ‘What I Did Last Summer, in Five Hundred Boring Words or More.’ Why wouldn’t students receive help in her class? Those are topics they can really sink their teeth into and extract literary juices.”

Hal nearly smiled at the sarcasm and almost let himself like Dolty. Miss Pettigrew’s theme subjects apparently hadn’t changed much since she was Hal’s teacher. That probably accounted for part of Rick’s problem. He wasn’t interested in the themes he had to write for practice.

Hal also realized he’d learn nothing constructive about Rick from this teacher. Mr. Dolty, like so many others in the teaching field, was little more than a glorified policeman and babysitter. Fresh from the idealism of a teachers’ college, Dolty felt puzzled and bitter by the mundane world of practical education. Instead of stimulating conversations with polite, well-informed students, he found himself yelling for quiet and trying to shove the barest facts into unwilling, disinterested minds. Feelings of unfulfilled ambition, inadequacy, and disappointment marred his hopes for a rewarding career. He probably wouldn’t stay in the profession very long. And his failure would be a lifelong bafflement.

Hal mumbled his thanks and left the history room. He was on auto pilot as he sauntered down the hallway for his next appointment. This one should go better, he hoped.

“Well, Hal, nice to see you,” the kindly faced lady said in greeting. “Sit down. I have Gwen’s card right here on top.”

Hal removed his hat as he piled into the chair she offered. Her classroom contained the same efficient furniture, except the chairs sported light turquoise plastic seats and backs instead of the history room’s salmon. But this room seemed homier, perhaps because the teacher was an old friend of Hal’s. Velma Patterson, nee Roebling, had been two years behind Hal in high school. They’d dated occasionally, but were never serious. Then Hal left Beardsley to fight in the Korean Conflict, and Velma eventually entered the state teacher’s college. When they saw each other again, they were each married and had growing families. They traveled in different circles, now, but remained warm friends whenever they met.

“Thanks, Velma,” Hal said as he ran his chunky hand over his thinning hair. “It’s nice to talk to someone with some sense. I just had a conference with a dunderhead.”

Velma smiled knowingly. Her soft, blonde, German face lit up gently, and Hal felt completely at ease. “We have several on the staff. Some are young and inexperienced; the others are old and bitter.”

“I’m glad you don’t fall in either category.”

“I enjoy working with young people.” She handed him a card. “Especially someone like Gwen. She’s an excellent student, Hal. You can be very proud of her.”

Hal beamed. “I am. And not just because of this ‘A.’”

“I know. I like having her around, too. She’s always totally prepared and applies herself well. She grasps new relationships quickly and has a genuine feel for mathematics. But, socially, she’s still shy and needs to come out of her shell more. She’s very sweet and in time will gain more confidence if we all encourage her. Lately, she’s done a little better, though. Do you have any questions?”

Hal grinned. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

“Charlotte would’ve been proud of her, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, she would have.“

“Your sister left us and this old world too soon, Hal.“

“I know. Oh, I’m collecting Rick Medina’s cards, too. His old man wouldn’t come over, so here I am.”

Velma shook her head. “That poor boy! Rick’s had so much trouble. And he needs understanding so much.”

“What kind of a student is he?”

“Average. He could do better work if he were encouraged. All he needs is to apply himself. If someone could give him a gentle push, he could do superior work. And with hard discipline, he could beat most of his classmates.”

“You mean he’d do better if someone cracked down on him?”

“Yes. He thrives on competition, although you wouldn’t know it at first. He needs a challenge, a goal, and a burr under his tail. With his determination, he could achieve great things. All he needs is a little guidance from someone he respects, and I think he doesn’t get anything like that from home.”

“He gets nothing from home.”

Velma sadly shook her head. “I thought so. I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s shy and terribly sensitive. He’s ashamed of his home life, and I expect he hopes I won’t bring up the subject. Perhaps he doesn’t feel well enough acquainted with me to open up. But I expect you’ve been able to help him, though. It’s truly a Christian deed you’re doing by being his guardian, especially after what happened to Lori.”

With a sheepish grin, Hal scratched the back of his neck and arched his eyebrows. “Afraid I don’t deserve all that praise, Velma. Being his guardian wasn’t exactly my idea. D.L. Farley kinda pushed me into doing it.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you are. Rick needs someone who really cares what happens to him, someone he can always count on to be there if he needs help. Otherwise, he’s going to get into more trouble and become a big problem to himself and to society. I’m glad you can rise above your personal feelings to help him. And apparently it’s working to some extent, or D.L.‘s little experiment would’ve blown up long ago. That makes you a pretty wonderful man, Hal Endicott. But, of course, you always were.”

“The kid helps, too.” Hal was amazed to hear himself say that. He had to say something to hide his embarrassment of her blatant praise. “He’s really not too bad. He helps around the house and likes to mess with Dodie and Randy. I guess we’d miss him if he didn’t show up anymore.” Hal sobered. “Funny. I hadn’t thought of that before. He has made things a little easier for us since Margo went away. He kinda plugs up some of the lonely places around home.”

“How is Margo doing?”

Hal sighed. “Oh, okay, I guess. The doctors say she’s hopelessly ill. Her mind is completely gone. She’ll never get to come home. She doesn’t even know me anymore. But she’s happy up there in the hospital. It’s just hell for us sane ones back here who wish she was home.”

“Sorry I asked, Hal. It hurts to talk about her, doesn’t it?”

“It’s alright. I don’t really mind. It’s just that her leaving came so close after Lori’s death.”

“I expect that pushed Margo over the brink.”

“I thought so at first, too. She went into a tirade when I told her, but now I’ve started to doubt if she fully understood that Lori was gone. I think Margo was lost to us long before that, and we just didn’t realize it.”

“Mental illness is a terrible thing.”

“Aw, I should’ve never brought her back to this small town. She was a city gal, and every part of this way of life made her angry. But she had children and wouldn’t go without me. She begged me to leave Beardsley, but this was my home. So she stayed, until it was too late for her to leave.”

“She must’ve loved you very much.”

“She did, at one time. But the life she was leading here turned that love to hate. Now, it’s worse. She doesn’t know me at all, and I’m still married to her.”

“I know how you feel. It’s like being married to a stranger. Robert’s crippling stroke not only placed him in a wheelchair, it has put a terrible strain on our marriage. It’s awfully hard to keep my fidelity to a person who’s impotent.” She stared at Hal, and a mutual understanding of the private hell of living with a vegetable flowed between them.

Hal jumped to his feet and left, mumbling a farewell. He’d also seen an invitation from a desperate woman in Velma’s eyes, and he knew he’d be too weak to fight her.

 

Curious about the yelling, Gwen left her room and walked downstairs. She was surprised to recognize the voices of Hal and Rick in heated battle. The two tramped back and forth across the living room, shouting and waving their arms at each other. They were thoroughly oblivious to her presence as she watched their performance in puzzled amazement.

“I can’t learn it that way!”

Hal shook a piece of paper at Rick. “Divide it up! C-O-N---D-E-N---S-A-T---I-O-N! Condensation!”

“That’s not how the word is broken into syllables!”

“I don’t care about syllables! Just break it up into groups of three letters!”

“Why would I want to do that?!”

“It makes the word easier to spell, that’s why! It has rhythm. Forget that it isn’t logical! Just spell it!”

“Boy, you sure have Miss Pettigrew beaten when it comes to being a nag,” Rick grumbled.

“You’re right! And I’m a lot tougher, too. Now stop changing the subject. Condensation!”

Gwen ducked into the kitchen and rolled her eyes at Bertha. “What’s all that about?”

“Hal decided to help Rick with his spelling,” she muttered as she stirred bread dough with a wooden spoon and checked her recipe.

“Sounds more like the start of a fistfight.” 

“That’s why the pan of cold water is standing on the counter. Hal said I wouldn’t dare to throw it on them, but I will if they get too wild. They’ve already chased Dodie and Randy over to the neighbors. The kids couldn’t hear the TV for all of the noise. They were watching cartoons with Rick when Hal charged in and demanded to know why Rick wasn’t doing his homework. That racket’s been going on ever since. I hope they don’t cause my rolls to fall when I finally get them in the oven. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them before now.”

“They woke me up.” Gwen smiled. “It’s kind of nice hearing them argue, isn’t it? Sort of brings everything out in the open. Notice something? They aren’t mad. Sounds healthy to me.”

Bertha winked. “Me, too. And it’s about time. I didn’t know how long we’d be forced to play Foreign Intrigue.”

The swinging door flew open. “I need a milk break!” Rick dug in the refrigerator.

Hal was right on his heels. He fluttered the spelling list in Rick’s face as Rick poured the milk. “You’re never going to learn these words if you don’t study!”

“Here.” Rick handed the glass of milk to Hal. “You look like you need this more than I do.” He grabbed another glass from the cabinet.

“Now, you’re a doctor prescribing medicine!” Hal sipped the milk. “First, first, I’d settle for a good speller. Doctors have to be able to spell those big, fancy words they like to throw around.”

“Who knows if they can spell or not? Look at Doc Murphy’s lousy handwriting.”

“Handwriting! That’s something else we have to work on!”

“Oh-h-h!” Rick groaned as he rolled up his eyes. “You’re going to improve my writing? That’d be like the blind leading the blind, wouldn’t it? I’ve seen your handwriting. Spare me! Don’t ruin me completely. A word or two is still legible.”

“It’s either that, or spelling. Name your poison, boy. Either way, you’re hooked.”

“What was the word again?”

“Condensation!”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot. It’d been a whole minute since I last heard it. Let me see. Condensation….” He gawked at the ceiling wrinkled his face, and chewed on his lip.

“I’ll spell it again. This time, listen!”

Rick held up his hand. “Alright. Alright. I think I’ve got it. Watch the paper. Are you watching the paper?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m watching.” Hal sipped his milk again. “I’ll watch; you spell. Condensation.”

“Alright. Condensation. Let me see. Oh, yeah.” Rick took a deep breath. “Condensation. R-A-I-N. Condensation.” He smiled proudly at his feat as if he hadn’t realized what he’d spelled.

Hal looked so stupefied that Gwen had to cover her mouth to hide her cry of laughter.

Hal reddened and sputtered.

Before Hal exploded, Rick quickly spelled, “C-O-N---D-E-N---S-A-T---I-O-N. Condensation!” His eyes enlarged. “I was only kidding. Honest! Don’t throw that potholder! Agh! You got me! Cough! Cough!” Rick clutched his chest and spun around. “I’m going fast!”

Hal grinned. “Not fast enough!” He threw another potholder.

Rick caught it and tossed it back. The room filled with flying debris. Gwen shrieked and ducked as a day-old muffin zoomed over her head. Hal laughed and bombarded Rick with potato chips so fast that Rick could only twist and throw up his arms to protect himself.

“Alright, you two!” Bertha lifted her big, wooden spoon. “Out of this kitchen! Out! Both of you! Take your comedy act on the road. I don’t need Laurel and Hardy in here.”

“Hey! You can’t threaten him with that thing! He’s a sheriff!”

“I don’t care if he’s head of the FBI, he’s leaving! You, too!” She took a hearty swat at Rick’s rump, but he dashed out of her reach. The door swung shut on him and Hal. “Honestly! I guess boys will be boys.”

Gwen was holding her sides from laughing. “Oh, Bertha! How I love living in this house.”

“Do you?”

Gwen wiped her eyes. “Of course, I do. Why?”

“I took a phone call for you this afternoon. Your uncle Floyd will be here this Saturday.”

Gwen’s face fell. “Saturday?! But I wasn’t expecting him until next week!”

“Nevertheless, he’ll be here Saturday. I thought you should know as soon as possible, but you went upstairs before I saw you. Don’t let Hal know just yet. Rick seems to have pepped him up. Your leaving will take the wind out of his sails again.”

“But I’m not leaving! I wrote my uncle that.”

Bertha beamed. “Good girl! Now, grease those pans so we can have fresh rolls for supper. Listen! They’re at it again. What’s the word this time?”

Gwen listened. “Gratification. That means a….” She laughed. “He did it! Rick spelled ‘reward.’”

 

“Why were so set on Rick’s learning those spelling words?” Bertha asked the next afternoon as Hal sat sipping coffee at the kitchen table. “Your pupil seemed unwilling.”

“Velma Patterson thought he’d do better if someone pushed him a little.”

“Pushed him a little?! What I saw yesterday was him being hogtied and dragged kicking through the streets.”

Hal grinned. “He was teasing me. Doesn’t he have a smart-lip on him?” Pride sparkled in his voice. “I used to smart off like that to Pete Rollins all the time. He and my dad must’ve had their hands full with me around. Pete even threw me in jail once for speeding, then sat up half the night talking and playing checkers with me through the bars. He and Dad kept after me until I straightened up and toed the line. I sure do miss those two old boys.”

Bertha lifted an eyebrow. So Rick reminded Hal of himself when he was young, did he? “And you think Rick was teasing you?”

“Hell, yes, he was! He could spell those words all along, but it took me awhile to figure that out. By then, though, I was having too much fun to quit the game. But I bet one thing. I bet I anchored those words so firmly in his brain he’ll never forget them. That’s why I came home right now. I wanted to see how he did on the spelling test. Hope he walks home from school with Gwen.” He pulled aside the curtain. “There they are now!” His eyes danced as he squirmed in anticipation. “Act natural,” he whispered loudly.

Bertha rolled her dark eyes to the ceiling.

Gwen and Rick invaded the kitchen in a flurry of noise and a gust of crisp fall air.

“Hi, Uncle Hal! Hi, Bertha! Yum! Sure smells good in here. Roast chicken and yams in the oven?”

“The great nose detective strikes again!”

“Need some help with supper?”

“Always can. Ditch your books and grab your apron. You can make some slaw.”

Rick slumped in a chair and stared at the floor.

Anxious, Hal leaned forward. “Well, how did you do?”

“Hmm?”

“The test. The spelling test. How many did you get right?”

Rick shifted away from Hal. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,” he mumbled.

Hal blanched. “Rather not talk about it?! What happened?! You knew those words letter-perfect! How could you miss them all?!”

Rick sighed. “Who said anything about missing them all?” He took a paper out of his coat pocket, unfolded it, stared at it, and slowly shook his head.

Hal could barely stand the suspense. “What ones did you miss? Huh? Which? Let me see that.” He grabbed the paper out of Rick’s hand. Amazement crossed his face.

Rick began grinning.

“One hundred percent right! You didn’t miss any!”

“That’s why I couldn’t talk about it! I’d be bragging!”

“And I can read every letter. Every letter! You’ve been practicing your handwriting, too.”

“I wrote slower.”

Hal’s eyes went over the paper with appreciation. “That’s great. It’s just great. Your grades will be up in no time.”

Rick beamed with the praise.

“We’ll have to do it again,” Hal said.

“Not in this house, you won’t!” Bertha boomed. “Go out in the backyard, away from people and breakable objects.”

Hal handed back the spelling paper. “That’s great work. Keep it up.” His eyes glowed with pleasure, and he beat his fist on the table. “Now, who’s a teacher? Bertha? Who’s a teacher?”

Bertha sighed. “Sounds like Hal Endicott is,” she answered dryly. She winked at Gwen so Hal couldn’t see. “Guess I have to give the Devil his due.”

Hal ignored her and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Well, we might as well get busy. What homework do you have for tonight?”

“None. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I won’t do any studying until Sunday night.”

“Well, you could always get it over with tonight, then you can have the weekend free. What shall we do tomorrow? Gwen? You’ve always got good ideas. What can we do together tomorrow?”

Gwen sobbed once, grabbed her books, and ran from the kitchen.

Hal looked mystified. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Has she talked to you, Hal?”

“No. Should she?”

“Yes. And now.”

Hal studied Bertha’s somber face and tried to learn something from its blankness. Concerned, he hurried after Gwen.

Bertha and Rick stared at each other.

With a few quick words, Bertha told Rick about Gwen’s uncle’s visit. Long moments slid quietly by while they waited. Bertha finished cutting up the cabbage and added the cream dressing. Rick sat staring at the swinging door.

At last, Hal pushed into the kitchen, but he acted as if he didn’t have the strength to operate the door. Bertha and Rick stared at him. He looked deflated. Tears misted his eyes.

“Damn it, Bertha, I didn’t even know she got a letter from Floyd. We’ll lose her, Bertha. We’ll lose her. I can’t fight his money. And I can’t stand in her way. But why didn’t somebody tell me? Why didn’t somebody tell me?”

“We didn’t want you to worry, Hal. Your stomach’s been bothering you, and you’ve had other problems.”

“Where Gwen’s concerned, I’m not that busy! Is that why you thought?! That I was too busy for my family?!”

“Hal….”

He turned accusing eyes on Rick who looked away. “You, too?! I bet Dodie and Randy even know. What’s going on?! Aren’t I a part of this family anymore?!”

“Hal….”

He charged past her, and she drew back her comforting hand. He slammed the kitchen door and headed for his squad car.

Rick jumped up to follow, but Bertha stopped him.

“No. He wants to be alone. He’s hurt and angry. Nobody can help him. He feels like he’s lost another daughter.”

Rick watched the patrol car tear backwards down the driveway and barrel down the street. With savage fury, Rick wadded the spelling paper in a ball, tossed it in the wastebasket, and ran out of the house toward his own home.

Bertha stood in the middle of the suddenly quiet kitchen and stared at her supper. “They don’t need a cook,” she mumbled to herself. “Nobody eats!”


	15. A Family Feeling

“Gwen. Wait up. I want to talk to you.”

“I have to get back downstairs, Uncle Hal. I told Uncle Floyd and Aunt Agatha that I could find this picture of Mother easily. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

“They’re having their after dinner coffee. What the hell did they call it? Demitasse? Whatever, they’re drinking it. That’ll keep them busy for awhile. They couldn’t chug that stout stuff. They’ll be awake all night. Listen, honey, I want to tell you what Floyd and I discussed this afternoon.”

“I know what you discussed. Me! All day, I’ve felt like a fine Hampshire sheep on the auction block or, or a girl waiting to see whom her parents have picked for her to marry! I know what you two discussed, alright.”

“What we decided then.”

“Your face tells me what you decided. Besides, you didn’t touch one bite of your supper. You’re upset. Your stomach’s bothering you again, isn’t it?”

“Forget my stomach. I’m only thinking of you now, honey. Last night, I wasn’t. Last night, I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and stormed out of your room like a maniac. I deserve a bellyache. I know I upset you, too, and I’m sorry. I lost my temper, but this Chicago business all came as quite a surprise.”

“Imagine how I felt. I hadn’t heard from Uncle Floyd in three years, not since Mother and Daddy died. Suddenly, here he is, back in my life again, wanting me to go back to Chicago with them. But I won’t.”

“He sounds pretty adamant, Gwen. He wants a daughter.”

“Let them make one of their own!”

“They can’t. Agatha’s too old.”

Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. “But I love living here with you. I don’t want to leave. Won’t either of you consider my feelings?”

He squeezed her upper arms. “It’s for your own best interests, honey. Listen to me, Gwen. I’m not chasing you away, but you must think of your future. What Floyd says make sense. I can’t offer you here what they can in the city.”

“I don’t want to be like them, Uncle Hal.”

Hal grinned. “You don’t want to be rich?”

“I don’t want to be snobbish. You heard their snide remarks about this ‘quaint, old’ house. It’s insulting to you.”

“That didn’t bother me, honey. This is my home, not theirs. They’ll just have to let me wallow in my ignorance and squalor.”

“But they cut down Bertha’s cooking!”

“No, just the quality of the food. They’re probably used to squab and prime rib.”

“But Bertha took their insults without fighting back.”

“She did that for your sake.”

“I know. And once when I tried to defend her, she gave me one of those piercing looks that means to shut up.”

“She didn’t want you to ruin your chances. None of us do.”

“You think I should go, then?”

He squeezed her hands. “I think you should give it a try, honey. It might work out just great.”

Gwen lowered her head. “Alright, I’ll tell them I’ll go with them.”

Hal shook her shoulder gently. “Hey! Cheer up a little. You’ll have fun in Chicago, meet new people, see old sights, and relive childhood memories. This isn’t the end of the world.”

She searched his eyes. “Then why are trying so hard to smile and can’t, Uncle Hal?”

Hal hugged her and smoothed her hair while she choked back her sobs.

“Damn it, honey! The world ain’t fair sometimes, but we have to keep on swinging away at it. We can’t let it beat us.” He pushed her away to arm’s length and gave her a smile. “I want you to keep on fighting back, no matter what happens. And I know you can. You might be just a little slip of a gal to look at. But inside, you’re strong. You’ll do fine wherever you are.”

Gwen tilted her head. “Funny. Rick said I was a strong person, too.”

Hal winked. “He’s pretty perceptive.”

“That’s what I told him.”

Hal glanced at his watch. “Speaking of Medina, he’s about due. Got your composure back? Let’s go then.”

She touched his arm. “Uncle Hal, wait, please. Thanks. Thanks for everything. Thanks for being so nice to me all these years.”

He squeezed her hand again. “It was easy.”

They smiled at each other and walked downstairs together.

“Well, here they are, both back,” Floyd Pfeiffer said as he sprung off the couch. He was a very short, very slender man with just the whisper of a moustache on his thin upper lip. “Ah! Gwen located the portrait. Charlotte was a handsome woman, don’t you think, Agatha, my love?” He held out the glassed frame for his wife’s inspection.

Agatha glanced at the picture. “She was, if you like that horsy, outdoors type,” she remarked in her high, nasal whine. Her anemic, faded blonde looks matched her cold, thin, translucent skin with the blue veins showing through. Her talon fingers raked the air. “Ladies of refinement wouldn’t allow anyone to photograph them in such a wind-blown state.” She inspected her manicure.

Hal drew a deep breath, clinched his fist, and spoke in a low, over-controlled voice. “My sister competed in barrel races on the rodeo circuit. That picture of her and her favorite horse was her prize possession. We were very proud of her, and I won’t….” Hal bit his mouth shut with a great deal of effort.

Floyd knew of Hal’s temper and shifted his eyes wildly. “Ah, suppose we all sit down and visit?”

“I can talk from here,” Hal snapped.

“Ah, where are your younger children tonight, Hal? Ah, Doris and Randall, I believe, are their names.”

“I sent them next door to have supper with Phil Gibson and his wife. I thought we could talk easier with no children around.” He looked straight at Agatha. “Apparently, I needn’t have bothered. Their behavior is better than some adults I’ve seen.”

Agatha glared at him.

In the painful silence, Bertha cleared her throat and spoke quietly from her chair near the kitchen. “Hal, why don’t you offer your guests some after-dinner mints?” She nodded. “They’re on the coffee table.”

Bertha’s voice calmed Hal and also warned him to mind his manners. Before he could speak, however, the clock on the mantel began to strike the hour. He relaxed and grinned with pleasure. “Sorry, Bertha, but I can’t. Seven o’clock. Time for patrol. Floyd, I’m sure you and your wife will excuse me. Maybe you can come back tomorrow afternoon and discuss this further.” Hal drew the featherweight Floyd off the couch by shaking his hand and pulling.

“B-but….” Floyd stammered.

Hal could barely hide his glee of escaping the Pfeiffers and of ridding Bertha of the aggravating company. “It’s my duty, Floyd. I have to go on patrol in a few minutes, as soon as Medina shows up.”

Agatha was no longer bored. Hal had angered her, and she wasn’t about to let him or his orphaned niece off so lightly. It hadn’t been her idea to adopt Gwen just because she was a Pfeiffer.

“Medina? Isn’t that the boy who killed your Lori?”

Hal’s smile faded.

“I think it’s positively barbaric that you have to ride with the person who killed your own daughter.”

“Nobody ever said Rick killed her, Aunt Agatha. It was an accident.”

“Well, be that as it may, he’s still guilty, despite what the courts say. Isn’t that true, Mr. Endicott?” She saw that her catty needling really bothered Hal. “And to think the court wants you to rehabilitate him. You really have a lost cause there. Once a hoodlum, always a hoodlum, I always say.”

Hal fought back the pain of Lori’s death and struggled to answer Agatha’s charge. He knew if he didn’t, Agatha would think she’d won a moral victory over him. “Medina isn’t an irreversible hoodlum. He’s ridden with me about two months now, and I’ve never had any trouble with him. In fact, he’s been a help to me, and I’ve told him so.” He saw the flash of one of Bertha’s infrequent smiles and felt proud of himself.

“And he’s always been a perfect gentleman, Aunt Agatha.”

Agatha gave Gwen a look of genuine incredulity. “Do you mean to say you know this, this boy, Gwen?”

Gwen shrugged. “Sure, I do. We attend the same high school. I see and talk to him every day. And when he comes over here….”

“Comes over here?! Mr. Endicott, do you mean to say that you allow an unsavory criminal to frequent your home? Don’t you realize that you’re suppose to protect the two young ladies residing under your roof? Surely, you don’t expose them to someone like this Medina character.”

“The girls are safe with him,” Hal growled.

“And he’s not a character, Aunt Agatha.”

Agatha laughed. “Oh, my dear Gwendolyn. How naïve you are! You’ll soon learn to recognize people of quality in Chicago because you’ll be around them. Obviously, you haven’t had the opportunity to distinguish between good and bad in this small crossroads.”

“Rick is a very special friend, Aunt Agatha. Don’t you think we mistrusted him at first, too? He had to prove himself to us, and he has. I’m proud to know him.”

Agatha shook her head and smiled. “But, my dear child, the fact remains that he is a criminal. You must learn to be careful around that type of person.”

“Don’t you believe in giving someone a chance, Aunt Agatha? Will you give me a fair deal if I go with you, or will you try to change me into something I don’t want to be?”

“My dear, you must realize that your standards are rather immature and quaint. You need to be molded and guided properly. You need to meet the right class of people. Honestly, picking a criminal for a friend! You haven’t watched her too closely, have you, Mr. Endicott?”

While Hal stumbled for an answer, Gwen stepped closer to her new aunt. Gwen’s eyes were blazing. “Rick Medina is my friend. And I won’t allow anyone to think he’s bad, least of all you.”

“Well, I never! Such insolence!”

“Now, Aggie, you are baiting the girl.”

“Don’t ‘Aggie’ me, Floyd! Not in front of strangers. How crude!”

Floyd placed a mint in his mouth and shut up.

Unnoticed, Rick pushed through the swinging door. “I knocked on the backdoor,” he whispered to Bertha. “Nobody answered, so I came on in.”

Bertha nodded.

Agatha drew herself up majestically. “We will correct your Uncle Hal’s shortcomings quickly enough. You’ve been sadly neglected, my dear. I’m surprised that Floyd allowed you to remain in this environment so long.”

Gwen exploded. “You don’t like my home! You don’t like the kind of food I eat! You criticize a man who made a home for me when he could barely support his own family! And now you don’t like my friends! Well, maybe I don’t like you!”

Rick nodded toward the raging Gwen. “What’s going on?”

“Round five,” Bertha mumbled. “You’re just in time for the hair pulling.”

Rick gave her a puzzled look.

“Really!” Agatha snapped. “I’ve never seen such impertinence in a child. That shows what improper handling will produce.”

“Well, get used to my behavior, lady, because that’s the way I am!”

“Gwen, calm yourself….”

“I won’t let her cut us down this way, Uncle Hal!”

“Then don’t prove she’s right. Act like a lady.”

Gwen lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aunt Agatha. I’m upset about leaving here, that’s all.”

Rick frowned. Leaving? Were these strangers the uncle and aunt from Chicago?

Agatha arched her eyebrow and produced a brittle smile. “Well, who do we have here?” All eyes followed her gaze. “What’s your name, young man? You wouldn’t be the Medina boy by any chance, would you?”

Rick stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Polite, too. And good looking. You didn’t tell us that, Gwen. He has such an innocent face. No wonder all of you were deceived. But that’s what makes him such a successful hoodlum, isn’t it?”

Rick looked startled.

“Yes, Aunt Agatha, that’s the hoodlum! That’s the murderer! A surly looking character, isn’t he? Do you want Uncle Hal’s gun to protect yourself?! Rick just might be bloodthirsty tonight!”

Confusion crossed Rick’s face. “I, I don’t understand. B-Bertha?”

Hal stepped forward. “Gwen, settle down.”

“But she’s hurting Rick! She’s hurting all of us! Can’t you see that, Uncle Hal? She’s prejudiced! I thought you were against prejudice! How could she call Rick a hoodlum? She doesn’t even know him! I’m surprised at you, Uncle Hal! How could you let such rude people in our home? They have worse manners than she says we do.” 

“Blood tells, Floyd. No wonder your family thought your brother had been duped by a witch.”

“That’s about enough,” Hal said in a carefully controlled voice. “Gwen’s right. This tirade against us has gone far enough. You have no right to judge us or our way of living, Mrs. Pfeiffer. My only regret is that I let Gwen do my fighting for me tonight. I should’ve spoken up sooner. She might not measure up to Chicago standards, but I’m mighty proud of her. Just the way she is.”

Agatha smiled. “Well, Floyd, have you seen enough? Do you still want to rescue this wild Indian from her reservation?” Sensing triumph when Floyd sighed, she stood. “I do believe it’s time for us to be getting back to our motel, Floyd. We had a most charming evening, Mr. Endicott. You must call on us if you’re ever in the Chicago area. Come, Floyd.” She headed for the front door.

Floyd looked around in confusion. “I’ll, ah, get in contact with you before we leave, Hal. Gwen, I, I don’t know what to say. You don’t have your mother’s grace.”

“Maybe I don’t, Uncle Floyd, but I do have her backbone.”

“And your father’s blood. I can’t forget that, Gwen. If you ever change your mind, you may come to Chicago. Despite your performance tonight, I won’t turn my back on you.”

“Like you did once before?”

Floyd didn’t answer, but mumbled a farewell to Hal and excused himself.

The living room quieted as Hal, Bertha, Rick, and Gwen stared at each other.

“Well, isn’t anyone going to say anything?! Isn’t anyone going to tell me how stupid I was?” Gwen burst into tears and ran upstairs.

An amazed Hal finally regained his power of speech. “Can you believe that? I didn’t know she had that kind of spunk. We got a regular little hellcat on our hands, Bertha. Nothing that happens on patrol tonight can equal what I just saw. Nothing!” Shaking his head, he walked out the door.

Bertha pushed Rick forward. “Get going.”

“Where’s the coffee, Bertha?”

“No coffee tonight. Just leave.”

“What?”

“Let him think you forgot it. That will give him an excuse to stop at the diner. He was so upset about Gwen that he didn’t eat all day. Make sure he has something like hot soup. And steer him away from spicy, greasy food.”

Rick crawled in the squad prepared to start patrol, but Hal sat staring ahead and rubbing his chin.

“I never would’ve believed it. Did you see what went on in there just now?”

“Just the yelling part. It didn’t make much sense.”

“But did you see who was doing most of the yelling? And the loudest? Gwen! I didn’t know she had such a temper, did you?”

“Yeah. The first night I met her, she got mad.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Uh, defending you.”

Hal grinned shyly. “Really? Tonight, she was fighting all of our battles. At least, her aunt learned that Gwen couldn’t be pushed around. She might’ve lost her chances of a posh life in Chicago, and I’m glad. We can’t let that one get away, can we?”

Rick grinned. “No, sir.”

Hal turned the ignition key, and they began their patrol.

Three blocks from the house, Rick started scratching around on the seat and feeling around on the floor.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot your coffee. Want to go back for it?” He already knew Hal’s answer.

“Nah. That’s all right. I’m off it anyway. Hurts my gut. Lately, everything seems to. Don’t tell them back at the house, but I let Doc Murphy take a look at me.”

Rick snapped to attention.

“Doc said he might know something by tonight. That’s where we’re headed now, to his office.” His voice was calm, but his face was tight with worry.

In the silence that followed, Rick realized Hal’s concern about his health. No wonder Hal hadn’t eaten all day! Gwen’s leaving and his unknown stomach ailment had him upset.

Hal parked the squad and stared at the doctor’s office. Finally, he sighed. “Well, I’ll never find out this way. Come on, kid. It’s too cold for you to sit out here.”

Rick sensed that Hal didn’t want to receive his death sentence alone. And as they walked up the sidewalk together, he knew also that Hal would rather turn and run. But there could be no running from this terror.

When he heard the front door, Murphy peeked his head around the corner. “Come on in, Hal.” His face was blank. Neither good news nor bad could be read in it.

Hal shot Rick a look of naked fear, drew a quick breath, and crushed his hat brim in his hands. “Don’t stay here,” he whispered, although there was no one to hear. “Come back with me.” He was scared stiff.

Rick knew the conference was private, but followed Hal into Murphy’s office. He sat beside Hal in the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

In deep thought, Murphy studied a sheaf of papers. Concern crossed his broad face.

Rick saw Hal’s hands shaking. The blood left his face. A fine line of sweat shadowed his brow. Hal licked his dry lips and stared at Murphy. Rick wished he could curb Hal’s rising panic.

“Hal? How are you feeling this evening?” he said as he turned. Then he frowned. “Rick? You should’ve stayed in the waiting room.”

“He asked me to come back with him.”

“Is that right, Hal?”

Hal nodded quickly. He couldn’t speak.

“Well, Hal, it’s not cancer or an ulcer. Nothing fatal.”

The answer, when it finally did come, came too swiftly. Hal slumped forward. Rick caught him and kept him from pitching headlong onto the floor.

“I never thought he’d do that,” Murphy mumbled as he held a vial of smelling salts under Hal’s nose. “He’s always seemed like such a strong person.”

“Something happened at home that had him upset,” Rick explained as he held onto the struggling Hal. “He hasn’t eaten all day.”

Hal fought away the vial and Rick’s arms. “How come every time I black out, I wake up to find you’ve got a hold of me?!” Realizing what he’d said, he stopped struggling and stared at Rick who turned away. Recalling that much, Hal wished he could remember more of what happened when he got sick and Rick took care of him.

“You’ve blacked out before, Hal? When?”

“From the flu, two weeks ago.” He still stared at Rick.

“And stress caused this blackout this evening,” Murphy said as he sat down at his desk. “That’s one of your problems, Hal. Too much stress.”

Hal forgot Rick. “What did you find out, Doc? What’s wrong with me?”

“Well, Hal, you’ve got a touch of high blood pressure, a touch of indigestion, and a touch of sinus. You’re overweight, and you don’t exercise enough. And you’re nervous. I’d say you’re suffering from a disease called the Ills of Modern Society. The only cure I know of is to quit your job and go live in a cave. But since you can’t and won’t do that, we’ll have to fight it the way we do the common cold. We’ll treat the symptoms and hope the disease clears up.”

“Meaning?”

“Watch your diet. Exercise more. Learn to relax.”

“Seems like I’ve heard this all before.”

“You’re your own best doctor, Hal. I could turn you into a pill junkie with twenty bottles of medicine and a clock to take them by, but I don’t think you want that.”

A slow smile spread over Hal’s face. “Then I’m okay?”

“You have nothing that will kill you tomorrow. Another ten years might change that, if you don’t do anything to help yourself.”

Hal jumped out of his char. “Thanks, Doc! Come on, kid! Let’s go get something to eat. I’m hungry!”

Still smiling, Hal drove into the Dairy Diner parking lot. “We have to celebrate, kid. Now, do you have any objections to the Police Department buying you an ice cream soda and a hamburger will all the trimmings?”

“No, but I think we can celebrate just as easily with a hot beef sandwich and a green salad down at the hotel dining room. Ten years sounds like a long time now, but Doctor Murphy gave you no guarantees. Why don’t you follow his advice and be around a little longer? Live to see your grandkids.”

Hal’s face fell. “You’re right.”

Rick touched his arm. “Wait. Don’t start the car. I can’t tell you what to do.”

Hal stared at him. “That’s what I told you about staying with your father. But that doesn’t work anymore, does it? We’re not strangers.”

Rick removed his hand and slid away. “No, sir.”

“I don’t remember what happened that night I had the flu, but I do have a good feeling about it. You were trying to help me, just as you are now. In some ways, riding this patrol together makes us partners. I guess we better not quarrel with that.”

Rick glanced up shyly. “And you’re not ready for false teeth?”

Hal smiled wryly and recalled their discussion about a truce. “And I’m not ready for false teeth.” He grabbed his microphone. “Are you out there, Mobile Two?”

“Where else would I be, Mobile One? Home with Lucy?”

Hal grinned. “Every chance you can get. And stop waiting for my job. I’m holding onto it awhile longer.”

“That’s good news, Hal. Guess I should get looked over by Doc, too. I don’t have very good aim anymore. I’d make a good lawn sprinkler, though.”

“Ha! Bet we lost Base on that one.”

“Hardly,” Helen answered. “I’m not surprised at anything he says. He’s a raunchy, old goat. Lucy told me that.”

“She should know,” George answered proudly.

“I’m glad everything’s okay, Hal.”

“Thanks, Helen. I’ll be at the hotel dining room for awhile. Me and the deputy riding shotgun are going to celebrate.” He grinned at Rick and winked. “With some diet food. This is Mobile One. We’re down.”

 

Hal heard the murmurs as he entered the church for Sunday worship. The whispering continued as he walked down the aisle toward a pew in front. Dodie and Gwen preceded him. Rick Medina walked at this side.

Rick slid into the pew first, followed by Dodie, then Gwen who was holding Randy. As Hal stepped out of the aisle and before he sat down, he looked toward the back of the church. Every pair of eyes was trained on him or Rick.

The organ prelude started, but the whispering grew louder. Randy pulled away from Gwen, crawled over Dodie, and happily plopped himself in Rick’s lap. A general gasp traveled through the congregation.

Gwen caught Hal’s eye. She felt uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving. Hal leaned forward and saw Rick looking at him. Rick made a motion as if to push Randy off his lap, and his eyes asked Hal if that’s what he should do. They both knew Randy would raise a fuss if moved. Hal gave Rick a stern look and shook his head ever so slightly. But more than the possibility of Randy’s causing a scene had motivated Hal. The people behind him had angered him. They had no right to pass judgment on whom he brought to church.

Hal settled back in his seat, folded his arms, and mentally issued a defiant dare. The next recipients of his stern look would be the entire congregation.

With a flurry of pomp and a whirl of his ceremonial robes, the Rev. Josias Blackwell stepped out of his office to the left of the altar. Blackwell was a dour, thin-lipped, pasty-faced man with metal-rimmed glasses inching down his button nose. His fragile, feminine handshake was legendary. Working men hesitated to shake his hand for fear of breaking the delicate metacarpal bones.

A student of ancient Hebrew history and archaeology, Josias Blackwell had been the alternate choice for a grant to study and do research in the Middle East twenty-five years ago. Once passed over by scholarly committees, he was quickly forgotten in the flash of newer talent. Forever bitter, Blackwell grudgingly served this church in Beardsley, but thought himself intellectually superior to most of his congregation. He associated socially with a few of the community’s college-educated people whose comments he found worthy of consideration, but he could never understand those people’s contentment with their pastoral existence.

Unmarried, Blackwell was the target of some women’s good intentions and other women’s open invitations. Both types angered him.

Men, the simple merchants and farmers of the area, had little in common with him. Their women consisted of the gushy, dedicated breed who felt themselves saved by doing a few hours of volunteer work for the Christian cause.

Blackwell could barely keep the contempt for his disappointing life from spilling over into his dealings with these people. Often, he failed. Those natives of small towns and the country are accustomed to a certain openness with others, an openness which Blackwell from Philadelphia lacked. His face, already etched with his bitterness, discouraged friendship. Extremely unhappy, he wasn’t much comfort to a congregation he couldn’t understand. And they felt ill at ease with him, too. But he enjoyed one consolation: he had a great deal of time each week to devote to his Middle Eastern studies. A great deal of time.

When the minister appeared in his doorway, the organist struck a rousing chord. The congregation responded by standing and singing the opening hymn. For fifteen minutes, everyone was occupied by the service and the announcements.

Blackwell solemnly stepped from the lectern to the pulpit. Unaware of the stir that Hal and Rick had previously caused and failing to note Rick’s presence with a cursory glance of his audience, he began his sermon.

“Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be call the children of God.”

Blackwell saw startled looks as people glanced at each other and straightened up. Elation surged through him and threatened to quell his bitterness. Never had he so captured the interest of the brethren.

What stopped his total joy was the realization that he’d said nothing new to startle them so much. In the weeks preceding Thanksgiving, he liked to deliver messages based on the Sermon on the Mount. Over the years, the flock had become familiar with his practice. His was a familiar topic, too, or so he thought. He couldn’t understand the shock that he was seeing all over the church.

But Hal could. He felt his ears burning and wanted to shrink down into the pew. He was a peacemaker. He disliked the fresh attention drawn to him, but he couldn’t burn the preacher with a stern look.

“When we speak of peacemakers, we immediately think of the lawmen in our community who do such a magnificent job of preserving our safety.” With a small smile, Blackwell inclined his head toward Hal who tried to acknowledge the compliment as nonchalantly as he could.

Blackwell’s eyes left Hal and roamed over the audience. “But Jesus charged all of us with the duty of being peacemakers, not just our professional lawmen. And so it is that all of us must face this duty, on the streets of Beardsley, in our own homes, and, yes, even in our hearts. For it is in our hearts that true peace reignth.”

Hal relaxed. Blackwell was through using him as an example to kick off his sermon. Hal hoped he wouldn’t be so singularly honored again in the rest of the lecture.

“And only when we find this blessed peace within ourselves can we extend our tranquility to all of mankind.” Blackwell rattled on, not realizing that the words could save him, too, if he would but listen and absorb them. He’d written the words; he was reading the words; but until he believed in the words and accepted them for his own salvation, he would sound insincere. A scholarly man, he could write a beautiful message. But until he accepted humanity on its terms and not his, he was only delivering an obligatory thirty-minute lecture to a flack whose only uplift would be in knowing they’d done their Christian duty by attending church. They would feel smug, but not enlightened.

After the excitement of singing and standing up, having to sit quietly for a long time while some strange man in funny clothes talked about something he didn’t understand was very exasperating for a young child. Randy became bored. He cooed and jabbered to Rick who first tried to quiet him and then tried to ignore him. Neither worked. Hearing Randy, Hal shot him a stern look, but the boy only flashed his father a wide, toothy grin and continued his play. Hal leaned over and reached for him, but Randy protested with an audible grunt. He leaned against Rick and refused to leave his lap.

Blackwell glanced down from his pulpit to see what was causing the disturbance, saw Hal and Rick seated together, and promptly lost his place in the sermon. The congregation was treated to several minutes of rambling, inane remarks until the minister regained his thoughts. He never fully recaptured his audience or his own composure, though. His eyes kept sliding back to Rick.

Randy stood on Rick’s lap, gazed over Rick’s shoulder at the people behind him, and tried to draw their attention with engaging grins and sudden squeals. But no one would play his game. Growing tired of the whole business, Randy nestled his head on Rick’s shoulder and went to sleep.

The trust and affection Randy obviously felt for Rick placated this new shock for most of the congregation. Some of the onlookers even forgot Rick and tried to concentrate on the wandering ideas of the disoriented sermon.

When Rick stood for the closing hymn, Randy awoke grinning. He was refreshed and ready for new adventures. He even tried to sing the words of the hymn.

“Did you hear Randy?” Dodie whispered loudly as they followed Hal and Gwen out of church. “He was singing!” She wrinkled her nose at the absurdity of the thought.

‘It was a hymn of joy, small fry. God likes people to enjoy themselves, even someone Randy’s size. You understood the spirit of the song, didn’t you, hotshot, even if the meaning of the words was a little over your head.” He grinned at Randy, but caught the eye of someone who apparently disapproved of his presence with the Endicotts. His smile faded.

The crush of the crowd pushed Rick and the Endicotts into the bright warmth of an Indian summer day. They blinked as they milled around the church entrance and allowed their eyes to become accustomed to the sunshine after the relative dimness of the church sanctuary.

A middle-aged matron with a heavily powdered face and a fox fur stretched across her ample shoulders approached Hal. “Good morning, Sheriff.” She acknowledged his nod and briefly glanced at Gwen who murmured a greeting. “Might I speak with you a moment, Mr. Endicott?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Van Dine.” Hal slipped Gwen’s hand off his arm. “Be right back, honey. Suppose you round up the others and get them in the car.” He escorted Mrs. Van Dine to the edge of the crowd. “What’s the trouble, ma’am?”

She hoisted her regal face with its painted, arched eyebrows and dark red lipstick. “No trouble, actually. I was merely curious, surprised, and delighted to see you in church this morning. I realize you must work late on Saturday night, and I think it’s very commendable that you would arise early on Sunday to accompany your family here.”

Hal grinned shyly. “My son sees to that. Randy’s my alarm clock. Nobody sleeps late with him around.”

“Still, I was surprised to see you.”

Hal shrugged. “Just trying to ask forgiveness for my sins, like everyone else. Besides, I have a lot to be thankful for, especially a wonderful family.”

Hal’s inability to understand her point caused Mrs. Van Dine to lose some of her composure. “I meant, I was surprised to see you with, ah, the Medina boy.”

Hal felt his grin freeze as he tried to keep his rising anger out of his voice. “So? I can’t think of a better place for us to be, can you?”

She was taken aback by Hal’s brashness, but not enough to shut up. “But, but together?”

“Yes, Mrs. Van Dine, together. The world needs more understanding, and I think it should start with us, don’t you?”

“Yes, but….”

“Excuse me, won’t you? My family’s waiting, and we have a guest for dinner.” He left Mrs. Van Dine sputtering.

“Whoa, Hal! My goodness, where are you charging off to? You just cut a swath through that crowd like a quarterback running for the winning touchdown.”

“Oh, hi, Velma,” he mumbled as he glared at Mrs. Van Dine through the crowd. “Guess I’m not very charming this morning. I just had a run-in with another dunderhead.”

“Such a thing to say about the mother-in-law of our illustrious mayor,” she said as she gently reproved him. “And I couldn’t agree more. I can imagine what she told you. You and Rick caused more excitement that the sermon.”

“We didn’t intend to. The kids wanted him to go to church with us, and I couldn’t see any harm in it. If anyone wants to pick a fight over it, though, I’m ready.”

She touched his arm. “Hold it, Hal! I’m on your side, remember? I think it’s wonderful that you’ve accepted Rick. It shows the rest of us what a true Christian is.”

Hal grinned shyly. She’d quelled his anger as easily as that. “There you go, making me sound like Superman again.”

She gazed into his eyes. “That’s not hard to do.” She squeezed his arm. “We all need a super man in our lives, now and then.”

Hal’s grin faded. He read the same yearning invitation in her eyes, and he felt his iron will weakening. Abruptly, he murmured a farewell and fled to his car. He felt her eyes on him all the way.

“Well, what are you looking at?!” he snapped.

“Nothing,” Rick answered, puzzled at Hal’s fury. He stole glances at Hal as they rode down the street and finally realized Hal wasn’t angry with anybody but himself. Rick relaxed and enjoyed Randy’s company. He knew it was best to let Hal bring himself out of his dark mood.

“Pops, is this the way it is when Rick rides with you on Saturday nights?”

Hal seemed to surface from some subterranean depth, grinned at Dodie in the rearview mirror, and was his old self again. “Yeah, but we generally don’t have a crowd in the backseat.” Jolly again, he parked in his driveway.

Dodie and Randy ran ahead to tell Bertha that at last Rick would be eating Sunday dinner with them.

“I want you to understand one thing, boy,” Hal growled lowly as they crossed the lawn. “The next time I see you in that church, you better be packing a gun.”

Shocked, Rick and Gwen stared at him.

“Obviously, the folks in this town think we should shoot each other on sight.” He winked. “Can’t disappoint them, can we? Tell you what. Next time, we’ll take along some water pistols.”

Rick and Gwen both made noises of surprise.

“We’ll give those folks a show they’ll never forget. We’ll let them think we’re packing heat in the church. Then outside, we’ll have us a regular shoot-out, except….” He held up his finger. “Except, we’ll squirt the onlookers.” He smiled, savoring the picture. “Oh, it’ll be beautiful. We’ll cool off their curiosity, but good!”

“Uncle Hal! You’re incorrigible.”

“Incorrigible! Now there’s a good word. Can you spell that word, Medina?”  
“Can you?” Rick shot back.

“I asked first!”

Gwen shook her head. “I hope we don’t have to listen to this all through dinner,” she muttered to herself with a grin.

 

Dodie hesitated and glanced around furtively before slipping into the living room. It seemed unnaturally quiet and deserted with only Hal reading his Sunday paper in his overstuffed chair. Usually, the TV would be blaring or people would be talking. With no noise, the room emanated a feeling like being in church. Dodie reverently tiptoed across the room and stiffly perched on the sofa’s end nearest Hal’s chair.

Hal didn’t acknowledge her presence until he broke his concentration by turning a page. “Hi, small fry,” he mumbled as his eyes darted over the fresh columns. “Finish your homework?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hal looked up. “Sir? Well, you’ve learned something from Medina, at least.”

“So have you. You called me ‘small fry.’”

Hal grinned. “Guess I did without noticing.”

“I’ve learned a lot of things from Rick. He’s a good example.”

Hal lowered his head and studied her. “How come I feel like I’m being soft-soaped? What do you want now?”

“Nothing. I just wish Rick could’ve spent the afternoon with us, that’s all.”

Hal returned to his newspaper. “He had homework,” he said absently as his eyes flicked over the page. “Some kind of term paper for English.”

Dodie slumped against the back of the sofa. “There’s nothing to do.”

“Turn on a football game. The Cowboys are playing.”

“It’s no fun watching football without Rick.” She sat up. “Why don’t you help Rick with his lessons anymore?”

Hal grinned. “Like I did before? No, I don’t think so. We made a pact. He promised to study hard if I promised to leave him alone. Why? We were clowning around instead of working.” He rustled his paper. “But I check up on him. He studies.” He went on with his reading.

In the ringing silence, Dodie fingered the hem of her plaid blouse and twisted her face around as if difficult words were trying to work themselves out.

“Pops….”

“Hmm?”

“How many more Saturdays does Rick have to ride with you?”

“Oh, three or four, I guess. Why?”

“What happens then?”

He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean, what happens then?”

“Will Rick stop coming over here?”

“That’s up to him."

“Will Rick stop being my friend? I don’t want to say goodbye to him.”

Hal put down his paper. “Why do you think you should?”

“Those people in church today….”

“Don’t consider the opinions of those narrow-minded hypocrites. They don’t practice the Christianity they preach.”

“But they got me to thinking. Lori died because of him. I like Rick a whole lot, but Lori was my sister. Is it wrong for me to like him?”

Hal pushed his paper aside. Sadness lined his face. “I don’t know the answer to that one, honey. I wish I did, for my sake as well as yours. It’s been gnawing at me for weeks. The longer I know him, the harder it is for me to dislike him, and the more I feel like a heel to Lori.”

“What are we going to do about him, Pops?”

“Enjoy the good times and overlook the other, I guess. I know that’s like sticking our heads in the sand, but it could all end tomorrow. At least we’d have a few good things to remember about him.”

“That’s what bothers me! Something feels wrong. When we have fun with Rick, sometimes it’s too funny, like we’re all trying to make it better than it really is.”

“And that’s not being honest, is it? Like I said, we’re trying to fool ourselves.”

“Do you think we’re trying to fool Rick, too?”

“He wants to believe the lie as much as we do. He’s turning his back on his troubles with his father by running to us. That won’t solve anything for him, either. It’s just postponing his problem. No, I made the mistake when I told him to meet me over here on Saturday nights. If I hadn’t, he’d never had met any of you. Then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Then just you’d have a problem.”

Hal frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You like Rick, too, don’t you?”

Hal gazed past her shoulder, unseeing. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Dodie huffed. “Boy, I wish I was a little kid again!”

Hal grinned. “What brought that on?”

“Everything used to be so simple. There was a start and a stop to things, just like in a television show. But now everything fades into maybes. Is Rick really our friend, or is everyone just pretending he is, including Rick?”

“Today, he’s a friend. Tomorrow, he might not be. Things happen like that in real life. Friendship decays. Love sours. Great nations topple. Everything changes. I can’t make any guarantees to you, like I did when you were smaller and I promised that the boogieman wouldn’t get you. This, I can’t control.”

“I don’t think I like being grown-up. Everything’s sad.”

“Not everything is, but you’ve sure had your share lately.”

Dodie climbed onto Hal’s lap and snuggled against his chest. “I can’t hate him, Pops, and I can’t say goodbye. I keep thinking of how I acted and felt before I met him. I didn’t like me very much then, but Rick showed me I wasn’t so bad. He made me feel good about myself. Since then, I get along better with people, and it’s all because of him. It may be wrong, Pops, but sometimes, I, I forget what he did to Lori and to us.”

“We all do, honey. We all do.” Hal rested his chin on the top of Dodie’s head and stared into space.


	16. The Good Times

That Tuesday was Halloween, a big holiday in Beardsley. It marked the middle of the grain harvest, and hardworking area farmers paused briefly to let off a little steam. The Chamber of Commerce rented the Masonic Hall every year and hosted a square dance and food fare. Monies cleared helped to purchase and maintain recreational facilities such as tennis courts and a new municipal swimming pool.

It was an evening of family fan. At five-thirty, the Chamber members began serving a sausage and pancake supper in the fire station portion of the City Hall building. Then everyone went home to change into disguises. By seven-thirty, the masked dance was in full swing. Shortly after eight o’clock, a contest was held for best costumes. Trick-or-treaters were given sacks of candy and taken home for their nine o’clock bedtimes. If weather permitted, the teenagers would pile in a wagon for an old-fashioned hayride. When they returned at ten o’clock, they’d have a sock hop until midnight. Then the dance would break up, and everyone would go home. Well, practically everyone. Some devilment generally happened afterward, but not as many participated as with the dance and hayride.

“I can’t go to that dance, Bertha,” Hal protested as he sat at the kitchen table. “The streets will be crawling with people tomorrow night. I’ll have to be on patrol.”

Bertha paused in her potato peeling at the sink and looked over her shoulder at him. “To coin a phrase, let George do it. And Curly and Maynard. They should be able to make this town safe for democracy. Some law needs to be at the dance, and it might as well be you.”

“George is older than I am. He and Lucy should go and have some fun.”

“Lucy is riding in the patrol car tomorrow night with George. She said they’d have a ball.”

“Knowing those two, they probably will. But I can’t imagine George willing to ride patrol instead of going to the dance.”

“Whose idea do you think it was to send you? That’s right. George’s. This morning, Doc Murphy called me to ask how you were doing with your stomach problem since you’d seen him Saturday night. Imagine my surprise. I had to tell him I didn’t know a thing about it.”

“I didn’t want you or the kids to worry,” he muttered.

“So you told Rick. I have a bone to pick with that young man, too.”

“Don’t blame him. He was just backing me up.”

“I know. I figured you told someone else, anyway. Fifteen minutes after Doc hung up, I backed George Adams in a corner and forced him to tell all. That’s when we decided that you should go to this dance. You deserve an evening off. Besides, you need to spend a little time with your kids. They’re planning the costumes, including yours.”

“A costume for me? What is it?”

“What else? A frontier sheriff.”

 

Hal stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror at the top of the stairs. He wore light brown slacks, the black vest from an old suit of his father’s, and a faded plaid shirt with a neckerchief knotted at the throat. He scowled. “I look, and feel. ridiculous,” he muttered.

Bertha, in her red Spanish senorita dress, brushed past him. “Why do you think that? Here, you can wear your badge and hat and revolver. They won’t look out of place at all with that getup. The girls planned it that way.”

“Real clever girls,” he growled as he donned them. He felt more at ease with the familiar trappings, but he longed to be wearing his uniform. “Do I really have to do this?”

Bertha pointed down into the living room where Dodie paraded in her clown costume. “She made that outfit herself. The stitches are a little clumsy, but it’ll hold together for tonight. Gwen’s been teaching her how to dance, too. What do you make out of all that?”

Hal sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “Sounds like I’m going to a dance in costume.” He shook his head. “Oh, well, it can’t last too long, and it might even be fun.”

“That’s the spirit, cowboy.”

He smiled and offered Bertha his arm. “Senorita?”

The children clapped and cheered as Hal and Bertha floated down the stairway.

“Oh, how lovely!” Gwen exclaimed. “You look like Lloyd Bridges and Katy Jurado in High Noon.”

Bertha and Hal were pleased with their compliment.

Dodie wrinkled her nose. “Who are they? Is that some old-time movie?”

Hal was indignant. “A little more respect, young lady. High Noon was a great motion picture. It was a talkie; and we didn’t watch it from the back of a buckboard, either. We could understand the story, which is something we can’t do with today’s movies. They’re just a batch of running and jumping around. We don’t like them.”

“Speak for yourself, Sheriff, Bertha said dryly. “I happen to like all of that running and jumping around.”

Hal sputtered. “You know you like those old movies as much as I do! You’re just saying that to be difficult.”

“Come along, children. We don’t want to be late. And don’t forget the guy living in the past with his old films.”

“Living in the past! Now, wait a minute!”

Dodie grinned and rolled her eyes at their arguing.

 

They parked a block from the Masonic Hall and walked with the growing crowd. An odd assortment of wildly dressed people joined them. Nobody wore anything fancy. Most of the costumes came from closets and trunks and active imaginations. Bertha’s Spanish dress had been her mother’s. Randy wore a cowboy outfit because he wanted to look like Hal.

Gwen’s costume was unique. She came as Cinderella before the fairy godmother changed her clothes into a gown for the ball. A good seamstress, she’d sewn tattered rags to an old dress and tied a bandana around her hair. On Wednesday, Hal had dared her to wear the dress and was delighted at her pretended anger. She was developing a lot of spunk. Secretly, he was proud of her sewing ability and hoped she’d win a prize at the dance.

“Who the hell is dressed up as a gorilla? He’s making a regular fool out of himself.”

Bertha leaned closer to Hal. “That’s Barney James.”

“Barney James?! I thought he never even spoke up in a crowd, let alone run around like a jackass gone wild.”

“His wife said he’d never try on a costume. Then, when he did this year, his personality completely changed.”

“The way he’s acting, he’ll probably be my first overnight jail guest.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Hal. Barney works hard all year. He’s due for some hell raising. Aren’t you?”

Hal stepped into the Masonic Hall and surveyed the crowd of ragamuffins decked out in old clothing. Some square-danced or explored the stalls at the food fare while the majority simply watched. A feeling of childish glee drifted through the group and quickly engulfed Hal.

“You bet I’m ready to raise hell! Wanna dance?”

“Pretty soon, Hal. Let’s get our bearings first.”

“Meaning you want to see if there’s any other dress like yours here. I’ll just look for more sheriffs then.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been in the cider already?”

“No, I haven’t, but that sounds like a good idea.”

Dodie tugged on his sleeve. “Where’s Rick?”

“What was he coming as?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s hard to pick anyone out in this crowd. He’ll show up as soon as he spots us.”

“Someone looking for me?”

Dodie slapped her hand over her mouth and giggled through her fingers. “Where did you get that hat?”

Rick touched the top hat on his head. “Casey thought he wanted to be a magician once, but the hat got rained on about the time he decided to give up magic.”

“What the hell are you supposed to represent, anyway?” Hal inquired. “You look like you jumped in a rag sack and tunneled your way out.”

Rick acted indignant. “I’m a King of the Road. A hobo to you.” He glanced around the hall. “Looks like everyone else had the same idea.”

Dodie twirled. “How do you like my clown outfit?”

“Looks real cut, small fry.”

“I sewed it myself! Well, Bertha and Gwen helped, too. Just a little.”

“Tell you what. For doing such a good job, I’d like to show you off. Wanna dance? Can you schottische?”

Dodie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, boy, can I!”

“He just made her evening,” Bertha noted.

“Wanna take a turn around the floor, Gwen? Gwen?”

“Hmm? Sorry, Uncle Hal. What did you say?”

“I asked you to dance. Or are you watching for someone in particular?”

Gwen blushed. “Of course not.” She held out her hand.

Bertha and Hal exchanged knowing glances. 

A few moments later, Dodie spotted dancers she knew. “Look, Rick! Pops is dancing with Gwen. I didn’t know he could do that!”

“I’ve seen him run. He’s lighter on his feet than you’d expect.” 

Later, back on the sidelines, Rick said, “They’re forming squares, Gwen. Dance with me?”

Gwen glanced furtively about, then accepted his hand.

“Come on, Bertha,” Hal said. “Let’s get in their square.”

Dodie sat down and pulled Randy into her lap. “Look, Randy, there’s Pops! See him dance with Bertha?”

Randy pointed. “Daddy!”

Dodie giggled. “Oops! Pops slipped and nearly fell! Look at Rick laugh at him!”

“Rick!”

“That’s right. Rick.” She hugged him. He’s our special friend, isn’t he?”

The square dance ended, and a waltz started before the couples on the floor could disperse.

“Where’s the other two?” Rick asked from the sidelines as he and Gwen returned to where Dodie and Randy sat.

“They didn’t make if off the floor,” Dodie answered. She pointed. “Look.”

Hal was sweeping Bertha in majestic circles around the dance floor. Despite their stockiness, they displayed the agility and graceful movements that large people frequently have. Hal in his frontier marshal’s outfit and Bertha in her Spanish dress made a handsome couple. Onlookers sensed the warmth of their special friendship, a friendship that had developed quickly in the necessity of war and then had had time to mellow comfortably over the years.

“Gwen said they looked like two people out of an old movie,” Dodie was telling Rick. “What was that movie, Gwen? Gwen?”

“Hmm? What?”

“What was the name of that movie?”

Gwen finally looked at Dodie. “What movie?”

“You know! The one Pops and Bertha look like.”

“Oh. High Noon.” She looked back into the dancers.

“Yeah. High Noon.”

Rick grinned. “That wasn’t an old movie, Dodie.”

“That’s what Pops said.”

“It was a Western.”

Rick finally had Gwen’s attention. “You said western as if it had a capital letter. That sounds just like Uncle Hal. He thinks the only decent shows on TV are horse operas.”

“Are there any other kind? Except maybe sports.”

“We don’t want you around when a musical comedy comes on. We’d be outvoted for sure.”

“Excuse me. Gwen?”

Gwen turned, blushed, and stared at the floor. A short, chunk boy with a tight shirt over his barrel chest stood in front of her. His shortness and great width made his body look like a square. He pushed his glasses up his greasy button now. His florid face was spotted with syrupy pimples and was framed with stringy blonde hair cut in a Dutch boy style.

“Hello, Barry,” Gwen murmured.

“I was, ah, wondering if you’d like to, ah, dance.”

Gwen nodded her head and followed Barry onto the floor.

Dodie wrinkled her nose. “Who was that?!”

“Apparently, the heart throb of Beardsley High.” Rick shook his finger at Dodie’s giggles. “And if you repeat that to Gwen, I’ll deny it.”

Bertha plopped in her chair and fanned herself. “I’ll admit it! I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Hal was red-faced and grinning as he sat down beside her. “I bet we showed those kids a thing or two.”

“Now, it’s their turn to show us. The floor is theirs.”

“Where’s Gwen?” Hal asked, looking around.

Rick nodded toward the dance floor. “Out there. With Barry Haywood.”

Hal grinned. “So that’s who she was waiting for.”

“Afraid so.” Rick shot a menacing look at Dodie’s fresh grin. “I’ll deny that, too,” he said sternly.

Dodie wiped the grin off her face, but her eyes still sparkled.

“You look like you need some punch, Bertha. I’ll go buy you some.”

“Sounds good, Hal,” she answered as she continued to fan her warm face. After he disappeared toward the food stands, Bertha said to Rick, “I probably should’ve sent you along with him. He’ll buy something for himself that he isn’t supposed to eat.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Look.”

Bertha craned her neck to see between the weaving square dancers. “Who’s that he’s dancing with?”

“Mrs. Patterson, my math teacher. Who else would have equations written all over her dress?”

“Do I know her?”

“Her husband’s crippled. I think he used to be a lawyer. Their son’s in college. The older son lives out East somewhere. She’s real nice.”

“And lonely, too, I bet.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Bertha raised her eyebrow at the pleasure she saw on the faces of Hal and Velma as they danced.

“Boy, does it feel good to sit down!” Hal declared when he returned, flushed and happy. “Where’s the kids?”

“Dancing.”

“Just you and Randy left, eh? Here. Here’s your punch. Sorry I wasn’t any quicker. I got sidetracked.”

“I saw. So did anyone else who cared to look.”

“Huh?”

“The Patterson woman, Hal. Nothing good can come out of it.”

“Velma and I are just friends. We’ve known each other since high school, that’s all.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. She’s lonely, and so are you. But you’re both still married. Now, if it was up to me, I’d say go to her and be happy. Lord knows you probably both deserve some happiness. But I’d probably be considered too much of a libertine for Beardsley. This is your hometown, Hal, and you know better than I do what these people expect out of their sheriff. Is isn’t fair, but you do represent the law.” She knew she’d struck a nerve when she mentioned the law, because of Hal’s absolute devotion to duty.

“It hasn’t gone that far,” Hal said stubbornly.

“I saw your eyes. I saw her face. All it needs is an opportunity, and two smart people like you will find that.”

“I’m no monk, Bertha. This badge doesn’t run my life.”

“That badge is your life, Hal. It’s your religion. You could no sooner betray it than you could cut your own throat or the throats of your children. All I’m saying is, think. Think what an affair could cost you in this town.”

“A simple dance, and I’m having an affair!”

“You might consider meeting her in another town.”

Shocked, Hal stared at her.

“Okay, so I’m aiding and abetting a criminal. I happen to think you should loosen up and be a little risqué. You’re becoming an old fuddy-duddy.”

“An old fuddy-duddy?! Why, I’ll have you know….”

Out on the dance floor, Dodie grinned. “See, Rick? What did I tell you? They’re at it again.” Dodie shook her head at them. “Come on,” Dodie prompted. “They’re going to judge the costumes now.”

Gwen with her Cinderella pre-ball gown of tatters won the prize for originality. She glowed in the applause as she accept the dollar prize. Hal beamed with pride and clapped the loudest.

The children paraded in their costumes, then received brown paper sacks of goodies. Digging inside, they found corn candy, horehound drops, a candied apple, and a popcorn ball. Hal always made himself available to collect the horehound drops because his children didn’t like the bitter, old-fashioned candy and would toss the nostalgic delicacy away if Hal hadn‘t accepted it from them.

After milling around for fifteen or twenty minutes, the crowd began to disperse. Families with young children left for home while teenagers congregated at the far end of the Masonic Hall. The remaining people stayed to dance for awhile. The five-piece country swing band returned from its break and tuned up.

In the shuffle, Rick got separated from the Endicotts. Standing at the edge of the teenagers, he was engulfed by their talking and laughing. But he didn’t pay any attention to their conversations until he heard Gwen’s name mentioned.

Rick edged closer to the three boys and studied them. One was Chris Butler, son of the town grocer and a classmate of Gwen’s. The other two were burly ruffians who were surly and disinterested in school. Rick wondered why the studious Chris had struck up a friendship with them and why they should be talking about Gwen.

“She did you dirt, Chris. You deserve to get even,” one of Chris’s companions offered.

Chris was glaring at Gwen and Barry so he didn’t see his companions look at each other and wink.

“We’ll get her away from Pimple Puss, and then you can have your way with her,” the boy continued.

Chris began to have second thoughts. “I don’t know, guys….”

“Don’t let her think she can rub your nose in the ground, Chris,” the other boy said. “Just look at her shining up to that walking hot lot. Over weight. Creeping crud on his face. Glasses held up by dried snot. She sure must like that grubby touch better than yours.”

Rick ducked away from the boys before they spotted him. He tried to find Hal to tell him, but Hal had already taken Bertha, Dodie, and Randy home.

When the teenagers piled into the hay wagon, Rick sat close to Gwen and Barry. Gwen tried to edge away from him, but Rick followed. Gwen finally shoved Rick’s arm, but Rick remained persistent. Chris and his friends were within hearing range, so Rick couldn’t explain to the angry girl. The evening could have any number of outcomes, and Rick knew that most of them would embarrass Gwen or worse. He had to stay close to her until he had a chance to explain.

At five after ten, the hay wagon stopped in front of the Masonic Hall and ejected its noisy load of teenagers. Rick looked for Hal or George, but no patrol car was in sight. “Never can find a cop when you need one,” he muttered under his breath and caused two freshmen girls standing nearby to think he was demented. He hurried after Gwen and Barry before he lost sight of them.

Someone fed a rock ’n’ roll song into the record player in the crowded Masonic Hall, and the sock hop began. The semi-darkness hampered Rick, but he managed to catch up with Gwen. He could see her glaring at him.

Rick grabbed her hand. “Can I have this dance? Go have some punch and cookies, Barry,” he called over his shoulder. “They‘ve got your favorite.” He pulled his arms around Gwen for the slow dance. “I figure any cookie is his favorite,” he muttered to Gwen as they started to dance.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “I have a date with Barry. It isn’t a threesome.”

“There’s three guys trying to corner you.”

Her flash of fear was covered by a frown. “That’s the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me!” She tried to pull out of his arms. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but stop it! Stop wrecking this for me!”

“Wait! Hear me out. It’s Chris Butler and two thugs.”

Her eyes widened. “Chris?”

“What’s his problem, anyway?”

“He asked me to this dance. A girl has the right to refuse, doesn’t she?”

“I’ll find your uncle. He can drive you home.”

“I’m not ready to go home. And I want you to leave me alone.”

“But you don’t understand….”

“Correction! YOU don’t understand. I finally got Barry to ask me on a date, and it won’t be over until the end of the sock hop. Then he’ll walk me home.”

“You can’t walk with those three guys out there! They’ll be waiting for you! I’ll go with you.”

“You do, and I’ll kill you! I mean it, Rick. I don’t need a chaperone! And if I did, it wouldn’t be you! You’re not going to spoil this date for me. I’m having a good time.”

“How? Listening to Barry’s singsong account of his bug collection? I thought girls didn’t like bugs.”

“You weren’t supposed to be listening! Besides, they’re insects, not bugs. Barry’s going to be a zoologist and study them in college.”

“Sounds real cozy. You better become an exterminator so you can get his attention.”

She pulled away. “Your dance is over. So, leave me alone!” She stomped toward Barry. Her eyes blazed with anger and determination.

That’s what Rick got for messing with a woman in love!

Rick had to find Hal. Gwen’s anger might cause her to do something foolish.

He ducked outside and searched the streets. Still no Hal. And when Rick re-entered the Masonic Hall, he couldn’t find Gwen and Barry. Frantically, he plowed through the dancers and got yelled at for shoving. He pushed his way out the backdoor and closed the noisy music inside the hall.

The alley was dark, but Rick heard the muffled sounds of a fight. Then material ripped and Gwen screamed.

“Gwen!” Rick plowed into the struggling mass and pushed it into the light of the side streetlamp. The mad melee of flying fists and shoving bodies spilled across the sidewalk.

Gwen clung to Rick who tried to push her aside so he could fight. He was greatly outnumbered and knew at any second he’d go down. Then Gwen would be defenseless.

Then Hal pulled Rick’s burly attacker back and subdued him.

“Alright, settle down! Everyone, just settle down!” Hal ordered.

Rick straightened and fought to catch his breath. Gwen hid her face against his chest. Rick put his arm around her shoulders, partly to hold himself up. Both he and Gwen had torn clothes.

Barry Haywood sat stunned and nursing a bloody nose on the curb. He’d left the fight early. Barry made a vow that evening. No woman was worth this much pain. He’d concentrate on his insects from now on.

As he gasped for breath and wiped his scattered hair off his forehead with his free hand, Rick realized he couldn’t have fought off all three boys for as long as he had. He hadn’t. When Chris saw his two companions grab at Gwen and rip her clothing, he changed sides and helped Rick. Chris turned out to be a good guy, after all.

All four boys panted heavily, touched hurt places on their bodies, and glared at each other.

“What happened here?” Hal demanded.

Rick looked at the curious crowd summoned by Gwen’s screams. Her reputation could still be damaged.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Rick gasped. “No harm was done.”

Hal gave Rick a stabbing glance. He knew Rick hadn’t given him the full story, but he turned to Gwen and gently laid one big paw on her head. “Are you alright, honey?” he asked softly.

Gwen nodded, but burrowed her face further into Rick’s chest.

“Alright, let’s break it up,” Hal said. “Sock hop lasts till midnight, the last I heard. The rest of you, go about your business. Show’s over here. The fun‘s inside.”

The muttering crowd dispersed.

“Curly, you and Maynard take those four guys over to Doc’s. I’ll let Bertha take a look at these two.” He led the way to his squad and helped Rick get Gwen inside.

Gwen sat in the front seat between Hal and Rick. She was buried in Rick’s arms as the squad coasted down the streets.

“I thought I better keep you two separated from those other four. Doc wouldn’t want a fistfight breaking out in his waiting room.” Hal glanced at them. “Something pretty ugly was going to happen back in that alley, wasn’t it?”

Rick could feel Gwen trembling against him. He stroked Gwen’s hair and shushed her. Then he flicked his eyes at Hal and commanded silence.

“I’m sorry!” she apologized in a muffled moan. “Oh, Rick, I should’ve listened to you! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Rick closed his eyes and hugged her. “It’s alright, honey. It’s alright. I’m glad I could help you.” He opened his eyes and looked intently at Hal. “But I’m sure glad help got there when it did.”

Hal breathed deeply. A silent message flowed between them. They’d fight to the death to protect her, and they both knew it.

Gwen refused to release Rick even when they reached the safety of the Endicott’s driveway. He had to steer her bodily into the living room while Hal handled the doors.

“Now, what?” Bertha demanded as she turned off the TV.

“There was a little disagreement,” Hal answered. “Gwen’s shaken.”

Rick settled himself and Gwen on the couch and pried her face off his chest. She lay against his shoulder and wept softly as Bertha sponged her face with a damp cloth.

“She isn’t hurt,” Bertha announced. “Just shaken. I’ll put her to bed.“

The living room quieted dramatically after the women left. Hal leaned against the fireplace and stared at Rick.

“We won’t press charges. I think those boys have learned their lesson, don’t you? They probably hope we forget all about the incident. That’d be best for Gwen, too. No sense dragging her name through court and the newspapers.” Hal frowned. “Did you get hurt?”

Rick stopped flexing the fingers of his right hand. “I’m skinned up a little. No problem.”

“Maybe Bertha better take a look.”

“I’ll pour some iodine over my knuckles when I get home. They’ll be okay.”

Hal’s frown deepened. “When I found out what was going on and saw what you did….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t have to say it, do I?”

Rick reddened and dropped his eyes to the floor. “No, sir,” he answered softly. “In fact, I hope you don’t.” He glanced up at Hal. “But she’s like my sister. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to her,” he whispered. “I just couldn’t.”

Hal frowned, pursed his lips, and nodded thoughtfully. Finally, he pushed away from the fireplace. “Come on. I’ll drive you home. Tomorrow’s a school day. You better get to bed and try to sleep.”

 

Wednesday, the school was buzzing over Gwen’s experience. Speculation ran wild and created seamier stories than the truth. Uninformed people, like nature, abhor a vacuum. The void produced by their curiosity must be filled with something, even if it is fanciful and far fetched.

With reddened cheeks, Gwen lowered her head and charged through the halls and avoided the other high school students. She felt eyes all over her. Expressions of sympathy hurt almost as much as the catty remarks.

During home economics class, her best friend Judy patted her hand and gushed, “Oh, Gwen, what a terrible thing to happen to you!”

From the next table, a girl with long blonde hair rolled her eyes and winked. “Must be nice. Having five guys all to yourself in a dark alley.”

Gwen’s rare anger ignited. “But they were looking for you, Jackie!”

The other girl didn’t recover quickly enough to answer before Gwen flounced away.

Gwen avoided most inquiries and lived through the trying day. Most people had been gracious enough to keep their silence. Those that didn’t were either very close to her or very coarse.

Gwen heaved a sigh of relief as she left the schoolhouse at three-forty. There might be other references to her degrading Halloween experience, but people would gradually forget it. Tomorrow, there would be something new to discuss in school.

She started down the steps and brushed against someone. “Sorry,” she mumbled, then gasped as she looked up into Chris Butler’s face.

Chris solemnly returned her wide-eyed stare before Gwen dropped her gaze.

“Gwen….”

“Let me by. Please.”

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she whispered. “People will see.”

“And I’ve watched you shuttling around all day, avoiding everyone. I’m sorry I made you feel so cheap.”

Her eyes snapped at him. “How did you expect me to feel?! What if you and your friends had succeeded with your plans last night? How do you think I’d felt then?”

Chris flinched. “I wasn’t thinking right last night, or past it. I was mad because you wouldn’t go out with me, and I started drinking. Liquor and those guys I was with gave me the courage to try what I did. It was dumb. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I won’t even talk to you again if that’s what you want. I just had to tell you that. If Barry’s the guy you want, I’ll have to bow out. But I still don’t know what he’s got that I don’t have.”

Gwen summoned the courage to look Chris in the eye. He’d humbled himself greatly to apologize so thoroughly to her. He at least deserved some sort of explanation.

“I feel safe with Barry. We don’t talk much. We’re both shy. Our tastes are different, but I’m trying to get him interested in book classics and instrumental music instead of a steady diet of insects.”

“Shoot, if that’s all it takes to appeal to you, we could listen to my Mantovani albums and discuss Dickens.”

Gwen‘s eyes got large. “You know about them?”

“Just because I’m on the football and basketball teams doesn’t mean I’m a cultural clod. I‘ve got other interests. Sure, I read MAD Magazine, but I also subscribe to the Saturday Review of Literature. Shoot, I even knit and bake a mean apple pie!”

Gwen blinked. “I didn’t mean to sound like a snob. It never occurred to me that you’d like to do those things.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but you won’t give me the chance to get acquainted. You just look at me, see an athlete, and refuse to have a thing to do with me. Just because a guy’s out for sports doesn’t mean he’s on the make.”

“I’m prejudiced! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that. And I’ve always hated prejudice so much myself.”

Chris grinned. “Here I came to apologize to you, and you wind up apologizing to me. I really am sorry, Gwen. I know I was out of line. It hurts to be treated like dirt, though, even if I do deserve it. I’ll spread the word through the guys that you’re a lady, because it’s the truth.” His smiled gentled. “Because you are a lady.”

Gwen looked relieved. “That’s very kind of you. Thanks.”

Chris brightened. “Could we be friends?”

Gwen gazed at his earnest face. “I can’t.”

“I guess I deserve that,” he mumbled.

“Chris, I can’t trust you. Not right away.” She shuddered. “Last night is too fresh in my mind.”

“I’d do anything to square it with you.”

“Why, you really are sorry! I thought you couldn’t be that sensitive toward someone like me. Why, you’re one of the most popular boys in school. I didn’t mean to hurt you by turning you down for a date, but I thought you were only teasing. You see, I’m not very sure of myself around you. I thought you’d want a, well, more exciting girl.”

“To me, you are exciting. And very pretty. I bet you didn’t even know that about yourself, did you?” His soft grin sparkled at her.

Gwen looked down in embarrassment.

Rick suddenly appeared at Gwen’s elbow. “What do you want, Butler?”

“It’s alright, Rick. He just came to apologize.”

“Seems like you’re asking a lot from her, Butler.”

“Not as much as you’re asking from her family.”

Rick flinched. “That’s between me and them.”

“And this is between me and Gwen. It’s none of your business. You aren’t her big brother.”

“But he is my friend, Chris. I’m grateful for his help, especially last night.”

“So am I,” Chris mumbled.

“Why do you say that?” Rick asked in surprise. “I gave you a bruise on the jaw before you changed sides.”

“I didn’t want to hurt Gwen,” Chris mumbled. “I like her too much. I’ve explained it all to her.” He blushed. “Except that last part. I didn’t get the chance. But I am glad you stopped me, Medina. Harming her in any way is the last thing I want to happen. I know her reputation and her feelings have been battered, and I’m sorry about both. I don’t know how to make it up to her, but I’d like to try. I don’t want her mad at me anymore.” He shrugged. “But I suppose you wouldn’t understand how I feel.”

“You’re wrong, Chris. I know exactly how you feel. But you could be feeling a whole lot worse today. What if Gwen had been killed? And you were responsible?”

Chris stared hard at Rick. “My, God,” he breathed softly. “Lori, Lori did die. Because of you. And you have that to live with.”

“So, you see, you’re lucky.”

“Maybe. But I still feel bad.”

“Give her more time, Chris.”

“I just wanted to get it straight with her. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her for going out with Barry after turning me down. Thanks for listening to me. Both of you.” He hurried down the school steps.

“What do you think, Rick?” Gwen asked as they walked down the sidewalk. “Do you believe him?”

“It’s either the truth, or a ton of bull. Why didn’t you accept his date if he asked you out first? He’s sharper than Barry Haywood and more interested in you, too.”

“I guess I thought a popular guy like Chris Butler wouldn’t seriously look twice at a nobody like me.” She shook her head. “Why would he pull such a crazy stunt?”

“To get your attention.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, it sure worked! I’m so attentive, I’m petrified.”

Rick grinned. “No, you aren’t. Maybe you were last night, but not today. Now, you’re interested.”

Gwen blushed. “I don’t know what he sees in me.”

“You have to stop selling yourself short, Gwen. Get more confidence in yourself. You’re an attractive girl. Give Chris a chance to tell you what he feels toward you. You might just like hearing what he has to say.”

“I wonder what Uncle Hal would say if he came home some afternoon and found Chris in his living room?”

“He’d probably scratch his head and say, ‘Women!’”

Gwen giggled.

Rick grinned. “Will he ever find Chris there?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You can never tell.”

 

Rick straightened. “I think it’s fixed now, Bertha.”

“Thanks.” She studied the toaster, then set it back on the kitchen counter. “It’ll sure be a pleasure to get toast out of that thing instead of a shock.”

Rick leaned back in his chair and watched her stirring cookie batter. “Why didn’t you get it fixed before now?”

“Too expensive.”

“I thought maybe the sheriff could fix it.”

“Him?!” she hooted. “With his knowledge of electricity, he’d burn down this house.”

“But most men….”

“He’s the most unhandy man I know. Sometimes, he makes a jab at fixing his car; but machinery of any kind generally baffles him. Household repairs are a complete mystery to him. He tries, I’ll have to give him credit for that. See that water faucet? He tried to ‘fix’ that once. The whole kitchen flooded. Cost him plenty for a plumber and new linoleum. But he learned his lesson. He leaves mechanical things alone, and that makes life easier for all of us.”

Dodie and Randy trooped in from the living room.

“Cookies ready yet?”

“Of course not. And you know you wouldn’t get any until lunchtime anyway. Now, scoot! Cartoon day is here. So, go. Enjoy.”

Dodie leaned against Rick’s shoulder. “What are you and Rick talking about?”

Bertha’s eyes enlarged. “We’re planning a big jewel heist, but don’t tell your father. It’s so hard to do these things properly when there’s a cop under your roof eavesdropping on your conversations.”

Dodie giggled. Randy, who’d found a perch on Rick’s lap, laughed, too; but he had no idea what was funny.

“Can you cook, Rick?”

“Sure, Dodie. As long as you don’t hide my can opener.”

“Can you fix anything not from a can? You know, from scratch?”

“Oh, I can fry a chicken and make chili. But it’s not as good as Bertha’s. Nobody makes chili as good as Bertha’s.”

“I think he’s hinting for chili for lunch,” Bertha replied. “Or, how about chili dogs? Is it unanimous?”

Dodie and Rick cheered with Randy joining in.

“Can you make cookies?” Dodie asked as she swung around Rick’s arm.

“No, small fry, but I do make mud cake.”

Dodie wrinkled her nose. “Is that anything like mud pies?”

“Same procedure, but it tastes better.”

“Bake one!”

“Oh, I can’t now. Bertha’s using the oven.”

“There’s two ovens in that stove,” Bertha said. “Go ahead. I’m just as curious as the kids.”

“Okay,” Rick said with a grin. “But just like the guy on television says, you asked for it.”

Rick greased a nine-inch square pan and dumped flour sifted with cocoa, soda, sugar, and salt into it. He dug three holes in the dry mixture and measured cooking oil in one hole, vinegar in the second, and vanilla in the third. Then he poured cold water over it all and stirred.

“Mud cake,” Dodie murmured, fascinated.

Rick baked the cake for half an hour, then melted some chocolate-covered peppermints on top of it.

“Mud cake,” Bertha said as she looked at the end result. “I work for an hour mixing up a cake, and you throw a few things together in five minutes and make a better one.”

“Not better,” Rick corrected. “Just simpler.”

 

They were eating chili dogs when Hal reported for lunch.

“Hot dogs,” He grumbled. “And chili. Is that the only thing you people like? Chili?”

“There’s some cold roast beef in the frig for you, Hal. And some French fries and green beans on the table.”

Hal fixed himself a beef sandwich and sat down.

“Who’s watching the TV?”

“We’re listening,” Dodie answered. “To American Bandstand.”

“Well, go turn it off while we eat.”

“But, Pops….”

“But, nothing. Hop, now.”

Shaking her head, Dodie trailed off to the living room.

“Where’s Gwen?” Hal asked.

“Some sort of school thing,” Bertha answered. “Slave Day, I think she called it. To earn money for a party.”

“Why aren’t you in it?” he asked Rick.

“It’s just the sophomore class. They’re washing cars, painting the woodwork, and ironing men’s white shirts. Things like that.”

“Kind of a cold day to be washing cars, isn’t it?”

“Now, Sheriff,” Bertha admonished. “Those kids don’t feel the cold weather like us old folks do.”

“What do you mean, us old folks? You’ve got a good ten years on me, maybe fifteen. You might be old, but I’m not.”

“Why, the way you creak and groan around here, people think I’m the youngster and you’re the old fuddy-duddy.”

“Is that so?! Well, let me tell you….”

Amused, Dodie rolled her eyes at Rick and suppressed a giggle. He winked back.

“Before you tell me the gospel according to Hal Endicott, here’s some fresh ranger cookies,” Bertha said. “And chocolate cake.”

“Cake? Chocolate cake?” Hal grinned like a pleased schoolboy. “You actually baked me a chocolate cake?”

“No, I didn’t actually bake you a chocolate cake. You’re supposed to be on a diet, but this is special.”

“Dodie? You baked your first cake?”

Dodie tried hard not to grin. “Not me.”

“Gwen? Before she left?”

Dodie shook her head. “Nope.”

“But there’s nobody left,” Hal said, puzzled.

Dodie couldn’t contain herself any longer. “It was Rick! Rick baked it!”

Hal grinned. “Really? You made this? It looks really good.” 

“Oh, it’s just something I throw together,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“He calls it mud cake,” Dodie volunteered.

“Well, I don’t care what he calls it,” Hal said between bites. “It’s good. Bertha, get the recipe for this.”

After lunch, Hal drove back downtown. Dodie and Randy helped Rick rake the last leaves of the season. When they trooped in at three o’clock, dirty but happy, Bertha made them take baths, even Rick. They changed into clean clothes and watched a football game with Bertha.

At five o’clock, Hal returned home. All afternoon, he’d dreamed of another piece of chocolate cake. He beamed in anticipation of the sugary delight as he rubbed his hands together and marched into the kitchen.

But hungry children had found the cake first. Hal’s face lost its childish glee as he gathered a few scattered crumbs in the bottom of the empty pan. Rick took pity on him, however, and stirred up another cake while everyone watched the procedure.

When Gwen arrived home a little past six, she found no hot water and a heated debate over football teams. (Bertha was definitely against Hal and Rick’s favorite.) And on the kitchen table sat a freshly baked cake that everyone raved about, but called mud.

 

That evening, they were eating a corned beef and cabbage supper with carrots for a side dish, when Hal said, almost absentmindedly, “Eat your carrots, Rick.”

The room got quiet, and Rick looked up to see everyone watching him. “Huh?”

“I said, eat your carrots.”

“I don’t like the stuff.”

“Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Dodie leaned toward Rick. “You better eat them,” she suggested, “or you won’t get any dessert.”

The incredulity of telling a young adult to eat his carrots struck everyone as being funny, but no one laughed. Then Rick grinned, and everyone laughed.

 

“You’re doing that a little oftener, aren’t you?”

“What’s that, Bertha?”

“Smiling.” She dipped a dinner plate in the hot rinse water. “You’re not a half-bad looking kid when you smile. As I said before, you’d be a real nice person if you’d loosen up and let people like you.”

Rick took the plate from her and started to dry it. “What brought this on?”

“I was thinking about dinner. We all wanted to laugh about Hal telling you to eat the carrots, but we didn’t know if we’d offend you.”

Rick looked surprised.

“What’s wrong? You think we wouldn’t consider your feelings?”

“You and the kids would.”

“You think Hal meant to embarrass you? Or that he didn’t have the right to say something to you? He was only thinking about your welfare. He heard Doc Murphy tell you to eat better.”

“That wasn’t what bothered me. He never called me by my first name before. All of a sudden, I felt like I was part of the family. It was spooky.”

“Now, why shouldn’t you feel at home here?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something I can sense sometimes when I’m around him. He still resents me.”

“Look, Rick, Hal is not your enemy. You should know that by now. He’s concerned about you.”

“Yeah, me and every other teenager in town.”

“That’s right. If he didn’t want to help people, he wouldn’t be the sheriff.”

“Come on, Bertha, you know the real reason behind his ‘concern.’ The court forced him to be my guardian. He has to protect me, or he’d get in trouble with the Law himself if anything happened to me. That’s why he hasn’t gotten even yet.”

“Yet? You actually think he’d do something to harm you?”

“I hope not.”

“You think he has a vendetta against you?”

“Why shouldn’t he? He thinks I killed Lori.”

“What do you mean, he thinks you killed Lori?”

Rick heard Hal on the stairs. “Listen, he’s coming. I gotta go.” He handed her the towel.

“I’ll save the dishes for you to finish later.”

A faint smile flickered across his mouth. “You know, I bet you would.”

“Ready, mother’s little helper?” Hal asked as he walked through the kitchen. “Don’t forget your coat. It’s cold outside.”

“See?” Bertha whispered. “There’s no malice in him. If there is, he keeps it well hidden. You just feel guilty. Try to forget it. Here’s his coffee. Go on now. Don’t let him wait on you. And don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

Rick grabbed his jacket and ran outside. Hal had the car started, and Rick jumped inside.

“Did you get it?” Hal asked as he backed the patrol car out of the driveway.

Rick patted his coat pocket. “Yep. She didn’t suspect a thing.”

They grinned at each other.

Back in the house, Bertha was putting away the cake pan when she noticed that two more pieces of cake were missing. She raised an eyebrow and nodded her head. Whatever else Rick and Hal were or were not to each other, they had become partners in crime. 

Don’t forget your coat, indeed!

 

Rick followed Hal into the police station.

“You two are out pretty early tonight, aren’t you?” George asked as he started to rise from his desk. “Or is it time to start patrol, already?”

Hal waved him down. “Sit still! Sit still! I want you to try something. Rick, let him have it.”

Rick unwrapped the paper napkin from his pocket and handed a piece of cake to  
George.

“Cake?”

“Sure.” Hal’s face was flushed with excitement. “Hey, Helen! Come out here a minute, will you?”

Helen walked into the office, curiosity on her face. “Hi, Rick. My, you look like you’re in a good mood, Hal.”

“I want you to try a bit of this cake.”

“Cake?”

“Sure. Rick has another piece.”

“I’ll take a bite of George’s. Umm. That’s good. Bertha’s done her usual superb job. It’s delicious.”

Hal was grinning all over himself. “But Bertha didn’t bake it! Rick did!”

Helen and George looked at Rick in amazement.

“Well, you did a damn good job, Rick,” George said.

Helen smiled at Rick. “Some girl’s going to be mighty lucky to get you for a husband.”

Rick blushed.

“But you should’ve seen how he did it! He made one for lunch, and it didn’t last long. So he made another one for supper this afternoon, and I watched. He dumped a whole lot of stuff in a pan and stirred it around a couple of times, baked it, and come up with this!”

“Crazy Cake,” Helen said. “I’ve got that recipe somewhere, but I never tried it. I’ll stir up one tomorrow. Jim and the boys will love it.”

“Give the recipe to Lucy, too.”

“Better than that, I’ll send some slices over for your dinner tomorrow. How would you like that, George?”

“I always did say what I lacked in quantity of daughters-in-law, I make up in quality.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” Helen said. “Just for that, I’ll bake a whole cake just for you.”

George beamed.

 

At ten-thirty, Hal stopped in front of Rick’s house.

“I hope that sticky icing comes out of your coat,” he said as he turned off the ignition.

“I’ll soak it.”

“Terrible waste of good frosting. Cake still tasted good, though.”

“Bet there’s crumbs all over the front seat. They went everywhere when I tore that last piece of cake in two.”

“I’ll get Dodie busy with a whiskbroom tomorrow.”

“She’ll like that job!”

“She won’t mind if she thinks you’ll be around to help. And I better remind you about church and dinner tomorrow, or she’ll have my hide.”

“A hide sheriff with no hide. And she’d do it, too. And that would just be for starters. What do you think would happen to me if I forgot to show up?”

Hal grinned. “That kid! She’s one in a million, alright, just like Gwen. Say, did you notice anything different about tonight’s patrol?”

“It was quiet.”

“Downright boring, you mean! At this rate, I’ll lose my job.”

“No crime and/or evil to fight?”

“That’s right. Paradise doesn’t need a sheriff.”

“No chance of that. They’re resting up. Wait until next Saturday night. It’ll probably be a different story.”

“You would have to say that!” Hal growled. “No, tonight was odd, alright. No high-speed chases. No wrecks. No fights. Neither one of us got hurt. Or sick.”

“Or crapped on by a dead steer.”

Hal saw the flash of Rick’s grin and couldn’t disguise the smile in his own grumble. “Aren’t going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope!”

“Get out of here, you smart-lipped kid! Let me get back to work.”

“Okay.” Rick was laughing as he opened the door. Light flooded the car.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?” Rick turned and saw Hal’s sober face. His own grin disappeared.

They stared at each other.

Hal broke the gaze, turned the ignition switch on, and stared down at the steering wheel.

Rick waited in silence, then climbed out of the idling car and watched it coast down the street. He was sure Hal was about to tell him something important.


	17. The Misunderstanding

“Whose motorbike is in the garage?” Dodie asked at supper on Monday.

“What were you doing in the garage?” Hal asked.

“Looking for my sled. I saw snow flurries today.”

Hal grinned. “I hardly think you’ll be sleigh riding for awhile.”

“It could snow a whole lot tonight.”

“I doubt it.”

“But it could!”

“Sure, anything’s possible. But the politicians won’t like it. Tomorrow is Election Day. Bad weather would keep the voters away from the polls.”

“Aren’t you running for office?”

“Not this time. In two years, I will.”

“Can I help you campaign?”

“Sure can. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Can Randy?”

At the mention of his name, Randy looked up hopefully. “Me, too!”

Hal grinned. “Sure, you can.”

“Are you a good politician, Pops?”

“I hope so.”

“Sure, he is,” Bertha answered. “A politician can keep from answering your question without you even knowing it. Your dad just proved that.”

Dodie’s eyes darted about. “What question?”

“Did you ever find out whose motorbike is in the garage?”

“Oh, that question. Well, Pops?”

“Thanks, Bertha.”

“I’d like to know myself,” Bertha said. “Unless your father is in his second childhood and didn’t want us to know.”

Hal frowned at her. “Well, I’m not going into my second childhood. The motor bike belongs to Rick.”

“Rick? Our Rick? Why is his bike here, Pops? He’s got a garage.”

“I confiscated it.”

Dodie twisted her head. “You, what?”

“Confiscated it. That means I took it away from him.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be riding it.”

“Aren’t you ever giving it back?”

“In a month or so. But I doubt if he’ll ride it anymore.”

“Could I have it if he doesn’t want it?”

“It’s all busted up. Besides, I don’t think you should drive one of those things. You aren’t strong enough to handle it.”

“But all of the other kids ride them!”

“I doubt if all of them do. I know one who isn’t, and she‘s looking right at me.”

“Could someone take me on a ride on it then?”

“I suppose, but it’s broken.”

“What if you get it fixed?”

“That takes money.”

“What if Rick can fix it?”

“That’s his business. It’s his bike. He’s a mechanic. Maybe he can fix it himself.”

“Can I ask him if he would?”

“Asking never hurt. Now, eat your supper before everything gets cold.”

 

As soon as Rick appeared at the Endicott house that Tuesday after school, Dodie cornered him.

“Can you fix your bike?!”

“What bike?”

“Let him sit down and have some cookies and milk before you jump him,” Bertha reproved. “Your question can wait that long.

Rick sat down at the kitchen table, but Dodie stayed at his elbow.

“Your motorbike. The one that’s in our garage.”

“Oh. That bike. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Can you fix it?”

Rick bit into a chocolate chip cookie. “We better leave it alone. Your dad’s a little touchy about it.”

“But I already asked him. He said it was okay.”

Rick eyed her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Bertha?”

“She’s right. Hal said it was okay with him if you tried to fix it up. She just can’t ride it by herself.”

Dodie curled her lip. “Oh, Bertha! You spoil all my fun.”

“Better your fun than your fanny. You know what your dad would do if you disobeyed him.”

“Yes, ma’am,’ she groaned.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me!”

“Rick does!”

“Must you do everything that Rick does?”

“Why not?” Dodie smiled at Rick. “He’s such a good example.”

Rick basked in the open praise, but Bertha rolled her eyes upward. Dodie could charm any man into submission. She was just another Lori. Lord help Hal when she became a teenager!

“Won’t you please look at the bike, Rick? Maybe it isn’t wrecked as badly as you think. Pops said you were a mechanic. I bet you can fix anything.”

Bertha wondered if Rick would swallow all of that drivel.

He blushed. “Well, maybe not everything, small fry.”

“Please?”

“Alright. I’ll look at it, but I won’t guarantee anything.”

 

Rick and Dodie dragged the tarp off the bike and wheeled it out of its dark corner. Rick, with his hands on his hips and a serious look on his face, walked around the bike and examined its structure. Dodie followed him with her hands on her hips and the same thoughtful expression on her face.

“You know, you might be right.” Rick squatted and poked at the motor. “The frame’s okay. The trouble was in the motor, as I remember. It might be real easy to fix. Where’s your dad’s tools?”

Dodie tried to keep her balance as she squatted beside him. “Tools?”

“Yeah. You know, screwdrivers, hammers, and pliers. Things like that.”

“I don’t think Pops has anything like that. Bertha does, though.”

Rick fingered the motor. “Get them for me, will you?”

Bertha poked her head out of the kitchen door. “Won’t you get cold out here?”

“It’s warmer today,” Rick answered. “Feels like summer again.”

“Indian summer, if you please.”

Rick grinned up at Bertha from where he crouched on his knees on the garage floor. “I suppose you’re going to take credit for this good weather.”

“Of course.”

“For early November, it isn’t bad.” He rummaged through the toolbox.

“Can I hand you what you need?” Dodie asked.

“Do you know what tools are which?”

“I’ll learn!”

“Don’t blame me if that cold cement gives you two a cold,” Bertha warned.

“Can we use the tarp for a rug to sit on?” Rick asked.

“Sure.”

 

“Where’s Dodie?” Hal asked much later.

Bertha set the frosty water pitcher on the table. “In the garage.”

“In the garage?! What the hell’s she doing out there?”

“Helping to fix a mini-bike. Remember, you said she could ask Rick? Well, he said yes.”

“That damned bike! I wish she’d never seen it. It’s nothing but trouble.”

“She can’t play with dolls forever, Hal.”

“But couldn’t she for a few more years?”

“Not when her boyfriend likes motors better than dolls.”

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Medina.”

“Oh, you’re back to calling him Medina?”

“I’m mad about that bike, Bertha. I still think she should forget it.”

“Why don’t you go out and help them? You might feel better about the whole situation.”

“No, thanks,” he muttered as he walked toward the living room. “I’d rather see what’s in the newspaper.”

When Rick and Dodie appeared for supper a few minutes later, both were grinning with happiness.

“I think I can get it finished tomorrow. If it wasn’t starting to turn colder, I’d work on it tonight.”

“It’ll keep,” Hal grumbled. He accepted the bike repairing then when he saw the pleasure beaming in Dodie’s dark eyes, but he wasn’t about to let anyone know he’d given in. “Wash up now.”

“Oh, Pops, it’ll be so much fun. I can hardly wait.”

“I know,” he grumbled.

“Oh, Pops,” she gushed as she hugged him. “You’re the best dad in the whole wide world.”

Hal did more grumbling, but Bertha watched him melt with Dodie’s praise. Dodie was certainly a charmer. No man would ever outwit her.

 

“Hey, Medina, wait up a minute!” Chris Butler yelled the next afternoon as students scattered from their last classes for the day.

“What is it, Butler? I’ve got a hot date.”

“So do I. Ah, I mean, she’s a nice girl. A real nice girl.”

“Congratulations. But why tell me?”

“Because it’s Gwen.”

“Oh.”

“We have a date for the movies tonight. Look, man, I just wanted to check. You two aren’t an item, are you?”

“Me and Gwen? No. We’re friends. And the nearest person I have to a sister.”

“That’s what she said, too. In a way, that’s worse.” He rubbed the jaw that Rick had bruised on Halloween night. “I’ll know Big Brother is watching if I get out of line.”

“What?”

Chris grinned and slapped Rick’s arm. “Nothing. See you later.” He broke into a run.

Rick continued toward the Endicotts and the waiting bike.

 

Sunlight poured into the opened garage door at the Endicott house. Rick lay on his side, working on the mini-bike. Dodie hovered over him. Grease streaked their faces and hands.

“Okay, small fry, hand me that other wrench.”

“Here.”

Rick squinted in the sunlight as he frowned up at her. “Where did you get so greasy?”

Dodie wiped at the smudge on her cheek, spreading it. “It just happens when you work on engines.”

Rick grinned, shook his head, and returned to the bike. “Your dad will have my hide hung on the barn door when he sees you,” he mumbled absently.

“I’ll protect you, Rick,” she answered seriously.

Rick glanced up at her and laughed. “Thanks.”

The kitchen door flew open, and Rick barely had time to turn before Randy pounced on him. With a cry of joy and a flurry of feet, Dodie joined the melee. Rick rolled away from the bike so nobody would get hurt. He had the best of the children for a moment, and then they pinned him to the cement floor.

“Look at that, Gwen,” Hal said. “They’re wiping up grease the hard way, using their own clothes for rags.”

Rick lay on his back with the two youngsters sprawled on top of him. He grinned up at Hal and Gwen and tried to hold onto the squirming children. “I’m glad reinforcements arrived. They’re too much for me.”

Hal pulled Dodie off Rick. “Just look at that shirt. Bertha’s going to skin you alive. That’s a school shirt.”

Dodie shrugged. “Clothes get dirty when you’re working, Pops.”

“Clothes get dirty….” Hal took a playful swipe at her hair. He reached down for Randy. “Come on, hotshot. You, too.” But Randy only clung tighter to Rick. “Come on, son. Let Rick do his work.”

Rick sat up. “He’s right, little guy. Go get cleaned up now, and I’ll tell you all about what I’m doing later.”

Randy permitted his father to lift him to the floor.

After Gwen shooed the children into the house, Rick leaned on one elbow and continued to work on the bike.

Hal squatted to get a better look. “How’s it coming?”

“I think it’s almost ready. Do you see the Phillips anywhere?”

Hal handed him the screwdriver.

“Thanks.”

Hal studied the motor. “This doesn’t look too complicated.”

“Nah. Once you’ve worked on car engines, this is a snap.”

“Could be, too, that you’re a good mechanic.”

Rick grinned as he intently worked. “Yeah. That might be true, I guess. My shop teacher says so, anyway. I just like working with these things.”

“Maybe you should go into that line of work. There’s always a demand for good mechanics.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, but it takes money to go to a good trade school.”

“There’s always scholarships. Some of your teachers think you could be one of the best students in your class if you’d try a little harder. With a scholarship, you could even go to college and learn to be a shop teacher.”

Rick’s grin was almost bitter. “Me? In college? Boy, that sure wouldn’t set right with a lot of people. The son of the town drunk getting uppity.”

“Show them they’re wrong.”

“Yeah, guess I could, at that. Hit the starter, will you?”

Hal pressed the ignition, and Rick yelped in pain.

“What did you do? Hurt yourself?”

Rick sucked at his fingers and wrung them in the air. “The spark burned them.”

“Go run cold water over them.” Hal held the back door open for him and steered him across the kitchen. “Here. I’ll turn the tap on for you.”

“Well, I see that another grease baby slid in” Bertha said. “Go upstairs and wash up. You’re in my way here.”

“He burned his fingers, Bertha.”

Bertha pulled Rick’s hand out of the cold water. “You call that a burn? I get worse singes off a hot pan. What you got there, young man, is a little warning not to have your fingers where they don’t belong. You know, I’m beginning to think you’re accident-prone. You’re always getting hurt.”

“That’s what’s wrong with having a nurse in the house, kid. You don’t get any sympathy.”

“He’ll get plenty of sympathy if and when he needs it. Now, go get cleaned up. No grease monkey’s going to eat at this table.”

“Guess that means I’m staying for supper,” Rick said with a grin.

“Never was a question of that,” Bertha reassured him. “When I heard you banging around out there on that bike, I got out the chili fixings.”

“Chili?” Hal echoed. “You know I can’t eat that stuff.”

“Relax. I got a nice dish of cottage cheese already for you. That’ll be a good meal for your diet.”

Rick grinned at the look of dismay on Hal’s face.

Rick met Dodie on the stairs. “Bike’s ready, small fry.”

“Good! I’ll go try it!”

“Wait until after supper!” Rick called after her. “I’ll help you then.”

As Rick washed his hands, he heard voices from downstairs.

“But, Pops….”

“After supper, Dodie. Rick said he’d help you then. I heard what he told you, so be patient. You waited this long. Another half hour won’t hurt you.”

“Can I just look at it?”

“Sure. That won’t hurt.”

Rick sat down on the living room sofa, and Randy immediately jumped into his lap.

“Now, Rick!” the child demanded.

“What?”

Randy gave him a toothy grin. “Bike!”

“That’ll teach you to make idle promises to him,” Hal said dryly as he rustled his evening paper. “Randy’s memory is as sharp as a strict school teacher’s.”

“Well, hotshot, just what do you think I’ve been doing to the bike?”

Randy was still jabbering when Bertha called them to eat supper.

“Rick, holler at Dodie again,” Bertha ordered.

“She isn’t here in the garage. Maybe she rolled the bike out to the front yard. She should’ve left it sit,” he grumbled. “That thing’s heavy. I’ll go get her.”

“I’ll tie your napkin around your neck, Randy,” Gwen offered.

The sounds of the mini-bike starting and Rick’s yell were simultaneous.

Varoom! Varoom!

“Dodie! No!”

Hal, Gwen, and Bertha ran outside. Dodie and the motorbike were charting an erratic course across a neighbor’s yard, and Rick was chasing them. Dodie was screaming and the Benson’s water spaniel was barking. Hal started running with Gwen close behind him.

Dodie turned the wheel sharply, and the bike jackknifed.

“Jump!” Rick shouted.

Dodie managed to hop off, fell, and rolled. The bike skidded into a tree and died. The big maple shuddered.

Rick dropped to his knees and pulled Dodie against him. “Dodie! Dodie!”

The trembling little girl threw her arms around his neck. “My knee hurts,” she sobbed. “The gravel….”

When Rick saw she wasn’t seriously injured, his fear turned to anger. “Why’d you try to ride that bike?!” he demanded as he shook her. “It’s probably busted all to hell again! We told you to wait!”

“I couldn’t!” she screamed through her tears. “Don’t! You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to spank you!” Rick snapped with a final shake of her shoulders.

Dodie burst into a fresh volley of tears.

“That’s enough of that,” Hal ordered coldly. “Take your hands off her. Right now!”

Dodie broke away from Rick and clung to her father. She cried hard for a few minutes while Hal tried clumsily to soothe her. When she quieted, Hal glared at Rick who still knelt on the ground watching them. 

“I was against her having that bike from the first. Get it out of here.”

“No! No!” Dodie screamed. “You promised!”

“Okay,” Hal conceded. “But you’re not riding it until I have a chance to show you how. Medina, you killed one of my daughters. I won’t give you another chance at this one.”

Rick batted his eyes as if he’d been slapped.

“Don’t worry, Pops,” Dodie vowed as she snuggled at his side. Her tear-reddened eyes glared at Rick. “I don’t like you anymore. You hurt my arm.” She started crying again.

Rick stared wide-eyed at them, but he was too startled to say anything.

Disgusted, Hal picked Dodie up and carried her back to their house where Bertha stood waiting at the backdoor. She hovered over Dodie and examined the damaged knee. Then all three disappeared inside the house.

When Gwen looked back at Rick, she saw that the startled confusion on his face had subtly hardened into a blank, protective mask. She felt nauseous. She hadn’t seen that look on his face for weeks.

Rick pulled himself to his feet and absently dusted off his clothes. He pushed the bike to the garage as Gwen walked by his side.

Rick returned the bike to the far corner of the garage. “I’ll put the tarp back on it. You better go see how Dodie is.”

Gwen touched his arm. “They didn’t mean what they said, Rick. They’re upset. Give them time to cool off.”

“I thought she was injured. I wouldn’t have hurt her. Not for the world.”

She could see the tears standing in his eyes. “I know. So do they. When you finish out here, come on in.”

Rick lowered his head and wouldn’t answer her.

Gwen rushed inside the house to see how Dodie was doing. When Gwen returned to call Rick for supper, he was gone.

Except for Dodie’s sniffling and the occasional clang of spoons in dishes, not a sound was made at the Endicott table. Everyone was intensely aware of the unused bowl and glass that Rick would’ve used. Nobody had much appetite.

“Get rid of those extra dishes,” Hal ordered at last.

Bertha complied, but the bare spot did little to relieve the pall of gloom felt by everyone.

Hal finally shoved aside his dish of cottage cheese. “Dodie, if your leg hurts that much, you might as well go on up to bed.”

Dodie hobbled away, still sniffling.

Randy looked from one serious face to another. Even he knew something bad had happened. But he didn’t care about that. He just wanted his playmate Rick to come back.

The next day, the Benson’s water spaniel was ecstatic with joy when Bertha fed him chili left from half-eaten servings and a large mound of well-stirred cottage cheese.

 

Rick realized he’s been staring at the same page in his American problems text for twenty minutes. He had no idea what he’d been reading, or what had brought him back to consciousness. But suddenly he felt free, free of them all! A blissful sense of contentment swelled in him. He was free of Hal!

Amazed rapture filled Rick. He looked up and found that his plain bedroom had taken on a translucent glow. He wandered through the house and marveled at how inviting and secure the rooms felt. This place was all he needed. Why should he look elsewhere for happiness? Everything he needed was right here. He was complete in himself.

The next morning the glow was gone, and shock had set in and left him numb. Rick wasn’t about to let himself suffer, though, so he hid the truth from himself. The world seemed blurred. He stumbled around dumbly that morning, not really noticing what he ate for breakfast or studied in school. But by evening, though, he had surfaced and had successfully woven a chrysalis snugly encasing his wounded feelings.

Fool, he thought bitterly. Fool! Fool! Fool! To be taken in so easily. Don’t you know people are interested only in themselves? They might pause for a moment out of curiosity to look at you, but they’re only thinking of how your troubles will affect them. That sheriff and the whole bunch of them at his house aren’t really that crushed by your absence. So why should you stew about them?

Rick squared his shoulders.

 

“What are you doing here?” Bert demanded Thursday night when he found Rick frying liver and onions. “Thought you spent all your time with your new friends.”

“I’m not going over there anymore,” Rick mumbled.

“So, you found them out, eh? I knew you would.”

“No, they found me out. We had a fight. They don’t like me anymore.”

“Ha! Serves you right. I told you, didn’t I? Huh? Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes, Dad, you told me.”

“Stay with your own kind, that’s what I said. Those Bulls will turn on you every time, just like a pet coon on a hound dog. They’ll preach mighty pretty promises, but they’ll close the door whenever it pleases them. Ain’t nothing holy about them cops. They put their pants on one leg at a time, same as any other guy.” Bert laughed and slapped Rick on the back. “Welcome home, son. About time you came to your senses.”

The liver swam before Rick’s eyes as he stirred the aromatic pieces, and he knew it wasn’t the strong onions that had irritated his tear ducts. Damn! The chrysalis was cracking already.

 

“Can you spare a minute, Medina?” Chris asked that Friday after school.

Rick stopped, but he was in no mood to talk. Students eager to start the weekend brushed past him.

Chris was sober and reserved, too. “What’s wrong with Gwen? She was in a daze Wednesday night at the show, and she’s been quiet ever since. I thought she was going to start crying. Did I do something wrong? Did she tell you?”

“I haven’t talked to Gwen since Wednesday afternoon, but I’m sure you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I tried to act like a gentleman at the show. I was polite. I told cute jokes. You know, the kind a nice girl or your mother would like to hear.” Chris frowned. “What do you mean, you haven’t seen her since Wednesday? I thought you practically lived over at the sheriff’s house.”

“Not anymore. Look, if you like Gwen as much as you say you do, be nice to her now. Be a friend, not just a date. She needs you. Would you do that?”

“Sure, but I still don’t understand.”

“Help her, Chris. I can’t anymore, and she needs someone to love her.”

“Rick? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Rick fought for his pride. “Nothing. Just, just be good to her. Okay?”

“Sure. You look like you need a friend yourself. Can I help?”

For a wild moment, Rick wanted to confide in Chris and it showed in his eyes. But he ran away, leaving Chris to stare after him.

 

Hal scowled at the silence around the supper table. He clattered his fork on his plate rather noisily. “I’ve had about enough of this. We’re not in mourning. Nobody died. And I want everybody to stop acting like someone did. Now, let’s talk. We’re a family. We should share our day with each other.”

Gwen and Bertha glanced at each other.

“Did your home economics class get their fruit pies baked this afternoon, Gwen?”

“Yes, we did, Bertha, and we split them with the boys in agriculture class that hour. I think the popularity of all us girls went up a notch with those guys. They want more pies, but Miss McMichaels said that our budget wouldn’t allow it.”

The domestic chatter of the two women eased the tension somewhat, and Hal was satisfied until he saw Dodie picking listlessly at her food.

“What did you do in school today, Dodie?” It was more of a demand than a polite inquiry.

The conversation of the two women trailed off. They tried to snatch up the few threads of their thoughts to mask Dodie’s silence, but they didn’t fool Hal.

“Dodie?!”

Dodie glared at her father, roughly pushed back her chair, and stomped away from the table.

“Wait, Hal, I’ll go,” Bertha told the red-faced man. “You’ll only get more stirred up.”

Bertha found Dodie sitting on her bed. Her arms were crossed, her jaw was set, and her blazing eyes bored a hole into the opposite wall.

“Don’t you want to come downstairs and finish your supper?”

Dodie didn’t answer.

“You really shouldn’t blame your father, you know. He’s upset about Rick, too. It wasn’t all his fault. It was nobody’s fault, actually. It had to happen sometime. Some things got said without someone thinking first.”

“I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t like that Rick Medina anymore!”

“You can’t stop caring for somebody as easily as that, Dodie. It’d be convenient, but I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. You’re going to hurt for a while. We all will, even Rick. Your dad is trying to get our lives back to normal, and we should help him. You know he hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

Dodie sighed and some of the grimness left her face. Her arms fell limply into her lap. “I made Rick work on that bike. The fight was all my fault.”

“Some of it was, yes. But not all. You merely lit the fuse, and it burned out of control. You mustn’t blame yourself so much. Your dad and Rick were just as responsible, and they both feel guilty, too.”

“Have you talked to Rick?!”

“No, but I know him. Right now, I expect he’s feeling as bad or worse than we are. We can sympathize with each other, but he has no one to talk to who can even help him.”

Her lips trembled. “I don’t want to hate him!”

“Of course, you don’t. You got caught in the middle. Maybe they’ll get their misunderstanding cleared up.”

“Can we help?”

“Not right away. They have some problems they have to get ironed out first. They’d been hiding from them, instead of facing them. And that‘s never good.”

“So, I’m not to blame. They used me for an excuse to have a fight.”

“That’s not exactly….”

“Gwen was right. They are having a private war. I should’ve stayed out of it.”

“And missed knowing Rick? What a loss that would’ve been.”

“Will we ever be friends again?” Dodie asked softly.

“I don’t know. Rick might gradually drift away from us. That happens, even with people we love.”

“I know. Pops told me that once.”

“Why don’t you come down and finish your supper? It’s help everybody if you did.”

“Alright. Give me a few minutes.”

Dodie sat by herself and thoughtfully gazed at the floor. Pops and Rick. How could she choose between them?

A mist clouded her eyes, but she angrily blinked her tears aside. She wouldn’t cry like a weak girl. But she would protect herself.

Given the same choice, Rick had always picked his father. Dodie would choose hers now, but it’d gall her.

She wouldn’t let anybody get close to her again. Love hurt too much. She’d been a monster once to shield herself from people and their hurtful ways. She could do it again.

 

Hal beat on the Medina’s front door.

“Yeah? Whatja want?” a bleary-eyed Bert Medina demanded as his big body filled the doorframe. He was drunk and had trouble focusing his eyes on Hal.

“Where’s your son? I want to talk to him.”

“Hey, punk!” Bert roared over his shoulder. “Are you in trouble again? The fuzz is here. Shag it on out here.” He stumbled inside and fell across the battered sofa.

Rick walked out of the kitchen and laid a dishtowel over the back of a wooden chair. He gave an embarrassed glance in his father’s direction, then stopped in front of Hal. He glimpsed up nervously.

“Yes?”

Hal frowned at Rick’s torn, gray sweatshirt and faded jeans. The boy looked wild and unkempt, as if he hadn’t been taking proper care of himself and really didn’t mind. His sodden appearance startled Hal, but Hal was determined to keep their relationship impersonal.

“Why aren’t you ready? This is Saturday night.”

“So?”

“So, when you didn’t show up, I came over here.”

“I thought, ah, that was all finished.”

“Nothing’s changed as far as the law’s concerned. Your sentence isn’t over yet. There’s still three patrols left. Come on. Neither of us might like it, but you still have to ride with me.”

Rick sighed in resignation. “Alright, I’ll go change.”

“There’s no time for that. I’m late already. Let’s go.”

Rick held out his arms and scanned his shabby clothes in alarm. “I can’t go out looking like this!”

“Nobody will see you but me, and I won’t enter you in any beauty pageant.”

“But….”

“Come on, kid. I don’t have all night!”

“What’s all the damned yelling about?” Bert demanded in a thick voice. “I’ll start knocking heads together!”

Rick paled and cast a fearful look at Bert, then ushered Hal unceremoniously out of the door. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

Hal stopped Rick’s pushing hands. “You don’t need to shove. It’s chilly out. Go get your coat. Then nobody will see that shirt, either.”

Rick backed across the porch. His hands continued to make pushing motions. “Okay. Okay. Wait a minute. And please don’t say anything to wake him up again, okay?”

Hal felt oddly disturbed by Rick’s behavior. Rick rarely said “please.” He seemed afraid of what his drunken father might do.

“Don’t show up here anymore, okay?” Rick said as they walked down the sidewalk. “My old man gets pretty unruly. I’ll meet you wherever you say.”

“I could handle him.”

“Sure, you can. But I have to live with him. The best thing is to leave him alone and let him sleep it off.”

Hal squinted at Rick over the top of the squad car. “Is everything alright with you two?”

“Us? Sure. Nothing’s wrong.” But Rick didn’t sound too convincing.

“If you’ve got troubles with him….”

“I can handle him.”

“Look, I’m concerned.”

Rick’s eyes widened with unguarded hope.

“It’s part of my job to be concerned with your welfare.”

Something dark flickered over Rick’s face. “Just as you’d be concerned for any citizen’s welfare?”

“Sure. It’s part of my job. I could talk to your dad and….”

“Never mind!” Rick snapped. “Just leave us alone.”

Hal frowned at the quarrelsome face glaring at him. “Still got that smart lip, don’t you? And the sheriff’s department is willing to help. Some folks just don’t know when they’re well off. Alright, have it your own way, then! Get in!”

After such a fiery start to the evening, they both figured that the next three hours would be a constant battle. But once inside the squad car, they lost some of their belligerency and tension. Too many nights had been spent together in this car. Nights when they shared accidents and illness. Nights when they helped each other. Nights when they laughed together. Nights when they simply talked.

It seemed so natural with the two of them riding patrol again. Hal had to remind himself of the hard feelings between them and that Rick hadn’t been in his home for several days. Otherwise, he might forget and slip into old habits they’d learned together.

They rode past the high school where several dozen cars hovered around the football field.

“Big party tonight in the gym. When you didn’t show up, I thought you might be out here.”

“I don’t like those bashes very much.”

“Chris Butler took Gwen. I think they’re kind of sweet on each other. That sure came as one hell of a surprise.”

“Yeah,” Rick mumbled. He recalled the fun he and Gwen were to have with Hal when he learned about Chris. Now they couldn’t share that laugh. Rick flinched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hal saw Rick’s grimace and felt something between anger and sorrow. He knew Rick was missing Gwen and the others, but he’d sternly resolved to overlook it. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Rick since the bike accident, and he wasn’t about to examine his feelings now. He’d vowed to be nothing more than an impersonal, professional lawman.

But Rick was unreasonably quiet, and his presence began to chafe. Hal felt ill at ease. The car grew more uncomfortably close with each passing mile. The pressure was stifling.

“Look, kid, there’s no reason to be so bullheaded. We have to ride together, and we might as well make it as easy on ourselves as we can.”

Hal shook himself. Had he really spoken? He glanced at Rick.

Rick merely studied cars parked along Main Street, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

Great! Now Hal was talking to himself!

“Where’s the coffee?”

“Huh?”

“The coffee! Where’s the coffee? Bertha gave it to you, didn’t she?”

“You’ve flipped out man. I haven’t seen Bertha.”

Hal flushed. An old habit had finally caught him up. One thing, though, Rick’s soft voice didn’t match his sarcastic words.

After that blunder, Hal settled down and relaxed. It was a dull patrol. And, as Rick had predicted, it was different from the previous Saturday’s. George didn’t even call to break the monotony. Helen broadcast no emergencies. Nobody wanted to race the sheriff’s car. After long silences, conversations came in patches of strained words. Time only worsened the tension between them.

As Hal cruised along the highway, he remembered what they had to discuss. “The mini-bike won’t start again.”

“Oh?” Rick said in a deadpan, disinterested voice.

“I expect hitting that tree jarred something loose.”

Rick studied the passing houses. “Probably.”

“Dodie’s determined as hell to ride the damned thing again.”

Rick was silent.

“Look, if you could find out what’s wrong with it….”

“Take it down to Ferguson’s garage. Bill Davis is a good mechanic.”

Those were the last words they exchanged all evening.

 

“It’s been over a week since Rick’s shown up here,” Gwen said as she poured hot coffee into Hal’s cup. “Isn’t he coming back anymore?”

Hal sipped his coffee as he sat at the kitchen table. “Guess not.”

“Did you tell him not to?”

“Didn’t have to. He’s doing this on his own.”

“Did you talk about it Saturday night?”

“We didn’t have much to say to each other.”

“Would you’ve told him to stay away?”

“He was spending too much time over here.”

“What was wrong with that?”

“I didn’t want him around you kids.”

“Why? Did he use rough language?”

“No.”

“Did he ever show up here dirty? Was he ever impolite?”

“No.”

“Then, why….”

“I just don’t want him around, that’s all.”

“We can’t go on punishing Rick forever. He misses Lori, too. I could see that when he looked at her picture on the piano. He lost someone he loved, too.”

“I don’t care about his feelings. All I know is that my daughter’s dead, and her killer’s walking around alive.”

“Hurting Rick won’t bring her back.”

“Maybe not, but she shouldn’t have been with him at all. She should’ve been home with us where she belonged.”

“Lori never was one to stay put when there was excitement going on somewhere.”

“You’re right. She was headstrong that way. I guess he didn’t kidnap her. She was with him because she wanted to be.”

“The reason I asked about Rick is the way he looks. I see him at school and he won’t even talk to me. But that isn’t what bothers me. He looks so, I don’t know, weak, or scrawny, like he’s not eating right.”

Hal grinned. He didn’t want Gwen to know that Rick’s appearance had bothered him, too. “If you aren’t the All-American fuss-budget. You must be taking lessons from Bertha.”

“Please don’t tease, Uncle Hal. I’m worried about Rick.”

“I know you are, honey, but you might as well save your concern. He doesn’t appreciate it. Besides, he can take care of himself. He grew up rough in California, almost in the streets. Kindness would kill him.”

“Everyone needs love. Even Rick.”

“You don’t hear him asking for any, do you?”

“How can he? We sent him packing. Just because of that dumb bike. Rick was upset that night. He thought Dodie got hurt. If he didn’t like her so much, he wouldn’t have been so scared. He wasn’t going to harm her.”

“I know. I felt like shaking her myself. We both had told her to wait, and she disobeyed us. She really deserved a spanking.”

“Then why were you so mean to Rick? Don’t you realize how much your words must’ve crushed him?”

“I guess it brought back the car accident. Him shaking Lori, and her not moving at all.”

“But neither accident was really his fault. Oh, let’s make it up to Rick. Invite him over to supper some night. We could all be friends again. Everyone would feel so much better.”

“No. We’ve had a clean break, and we’ll keep it that way. In a couple of weeks, his sentence will be over. And then, I don’t want to see him anymore. Or hear about him.” He looked at Gwen sternly, then pushed back his chair to stand.

“Wait a moment, Uncle Hal. I want to show you something.” She pulled a package out of a cabinet drawer. “I got the film in the camera developed. Remember taking this picture?”

Hal solemnly studied the photo of several people weary from leaf raking. The snapshot showed a sleeping Rick holding a sleeping Dodie and Randy. Bert grinned at them from the side of the picture.

“We can’t pretend we never knew Rick, Uncle Hal. He loves those children, and they love him. You can see that in the picture. Can you imagine how much this split-up is hurting all of them?”

Hal handed back the photograph.

Gwen gazed down at Hal’s grim face. “How long do we have to pay for Lori’s death? You’re punishing all of us, as well as Rick. And it’s wrong, Uncle Hal. It’s wrong. Someday, you may wish you hadn’t done this.”

Hal left without answering.


	18. The Conflicts

“Hal? Hal Endicott? My goodness, where is your mind?!”

“What?” He stared down into the bright smile. “Oh, hi, Velma.”

“That wasn’t a very enthusiastic greeting. Whatever are you doing in Springfield on such a blustery day?”

He squinted dourly up and down the sidewalks as if he didn’t recognize the street or hadn’t realized the presence of other people. He seemed surprised to see them rushing to get out of the cold wind. “I delivered a prisoner to Sheriff Briggs.”

“And now you’re looking for more desperadoes?”

“Huh?” His sour stare relaxed into a self-conscious grin. “Sorry, Velma. Guess I’m taking myself too seriously lately. What brings you to the big city?”

“I skipped school to attend a professional workshop for mathematics teachers. Is that a felony or merely a misdemeanor? Will the sheriff haul me away to jail?”

His grin deepened. “Not unless you get unruly.”

She tilted her head and smiled. Her pleasant face had been brushed to radiant life by the sudden cold and looked very pretty framed in that soft fur scarf.

“I won’t, if you get me out of this wind and buy me a cup of coffee.”

 

When Velma removed her scarf at their small table, her short, curly hair flew every-which-way and clung to her head. “Static electricity,” she murmured as she patted the soft wisps back into place. “Thanks,” she said to the waitress who delivered the heavy mugs of coffee. She gave her hair a final smack. “I must look a sight.”

His warm grin sparkled. “Nicest sight I’ve seen all day.”

“Why, Hal Endicott, you old charmer! I do believe you meant that!”

He stirred his coffee. “I never lie to ladies.”

Her pale blue eyes flicked up to stare boldly into his blue eyes. “How about, ah, with them?”

The noise of the crowded café telescoped suddenly behind them. Chilled clothes steamed unnoticed in the dry heat.

“I’m sorry, Hal,” she said to his startled face. “I’ve been so brazen to you lately. But someone has to light a fire under you. I’m desperate. I feel like I’m drowning. Tomorrow will be too late for me. Tomorrow I’ll be old. I can’t let Life pass me by. Oh, I’m talking crazy!”

His shaking hand carefully placed the coffee mug on the table, then dropped gently over hers.

“Velma, Velma, sweetheart. I’m your friend, remember? Don’t be embarrassed. I know what you’re going through. You’re clutching at straws, and I look like a whole haystack.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie. “I never knew you were a comedian, Hal.” She traced the cup handle with her fingertips. “I’ve never propositioned a man before.”

“Yes, you did,” he corrected her softly. “Me, twice. No, three times.”

She smiled. She’d regained her composure. “All right, you! But you’re the first and ONLY.”

“And I’m such a shy, reluctant thing that won’t oblige you, aren’t I? No, Velma, I have more consideration for your feelings than that. And if I ever wanted some female company, it wouldn’t be just anybody. It’d be you.”

Velma leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “I have a motel room, Hal. You could call home. Tell them you’re staying over.”

A vein throbbed in his neck as he searched her pleading eyes. “Gosh, honey.” He drew back his hand. “I can’t,” he murmured. “I just can’t.”

The spell was broken. Velma seemed to deflate and grow older. Her chin sank to her chest. Her short fingers hung limply over the red-checkered tablecloth where his hand had rested.

“Let me explain….”

“No, no. No need. I’m just not desirable.”

“It isn’t you, Velma. I’ve been thinking of you lately, too. I remember what I wanted to do with you back in high school if I’d had the nerve. And it’d be good now, honey. Good for both of us. But, I, just, can’t. I don’t know if it’s some old-fashioned respect for my marriage vows or what. Bertha said it’s because I’m married to the Law.”

Her eyes flashed. “You discussed us with your housekeeper?!”

“She talked to me. She saw us dancing together at Halloween and guessed what was going on between us. If it’s that obvious on a crowded dance floor, how could we ever hide our meetings?”

“You’d let public opinion keep you from being happy?”

“We’re both old-fashioned, Velma. It’d bother both of us. It is too late for us. We’re just two middle-aged romantics trying to recapture something that died a natural death a long time ago. It was over when I graduated from high school. I’ve got my kids now and you’ve got your two boys. We could lose their respect, and for what?”

“For us, Hal. For us!” Tears made puddles in her eyes. “Oh, Hal, don’t use our children for an excuse. Don’t we owe something to ourselves, too?”

“I can’t. I guess I’m just a father to the core. Besides, you caught me at a bad time.” He played with his coffee mug. “We’ve, ah, had some trouble at home lately, with Medina.”

“Rick?” She dabbed at her eyes and tried to concentrate on someone else’s problems. “His school work has fallen off lately. And his appearance is appalling. Do you mean to say you had something to do with that? What happened?”

Hal shifted his weight. “We had a fight. Or rather, I yelled at him. He didn’t say a word. One thing led to another, and some pretty harsh things got said, by me and by Dodie. I think we hurt him bad. Anyway, he left and hasn’t been back since.”

“Wounded animals go into hiding. They rarely run in front of the hunter and beg to be shot again.”

Hal grimaced.  
“You enjoyed what I just said, didn’t you, Sheriff Endicott? You want someone to tell you off. You feel guilty, don’t you?”

Hal rolled his eyes Heavenward. “God!”

She squeezed his hand in friendship, not desire. “I’ll listen if you think it’ll help. But you know I’m really not the one you should be talking to, don’t you?”

He ignored her obvious advice. “It gets worse each day, Velma. He might not be around to remind me of what I did, but that doesn’t stop the pressure from building up. I never thought it’d go this far. I thought it’d blow over. I thought we’d just forget him. There’s the worst cold war going on in my house you’ve ever seen. Nobody talks anymore. I know they all blame me for what happened.”

“Poor Hal! No wonder you weren’t interested in my proposition.”

“That’s my loss, honey. I’m just too stupid to notice anything good when it comes my way.”

“It’s both our loss,” she whispered. “I’m here, Hal, if you ever change your mind. Please, honey, don’t wait too long. For both our sakes.”

He squeezed her hand, and they tried to smile at each other. Then Hal thought he recognized someone from Beardsley and wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. Not even its warmth soothed him.

 

“Want some stew, Hal? It’s still hot.”

“No, thanks, Bertha.” He exhaled heavily as he piled down on a kitchen chair. “I’m not hungry.”

“You better eat something. You look worn out.”

“Busy day. Took a guy over to the Springfield jail. And I, ah, had coffee with Velma Patterson, too.”

Bertha raised her eyebrows.

“Nothing happened!”

“You don’t need to explain to me, Hal. You didn’t even have to mention seeing her.”

“But I have to tell someone! God, I have to tell someone.”

“Alright, Hal. I’ll listen. And I won’t judge you.”

“But it was wrong of me to even consider doing anything. You don’t know what it was like to have a woman respond to me like that again. I felt like a man again, a young man.”

“It’s not wrong to have those yearnings, Hal.”

“But I wouldn’t take her up on her offer! I demoralized her. I made her feel ashamed. And she doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

“You’re working too hard, Hal.”

“Damn job,” he muttered. He rumpled his sparse hair and left it awry. “How’s everything here?”

“Normal.”

He sneered. “Meaning no one got killed, but almost?”

“Randy was fussy. The cold weather kept him inside.”

“And Dodie?”

“Normal.”

“Meaning she was surly as hell, right?”

“Not with me. But she knows she can bully Gwen, so she does. Tonight, she told Gwen to do the dishes by herself. Yesterday, she wanted Gwen to move out of their room. I’d nearly forgotten she could act that way.”

“I don’t know what makes her so selfish and demanding with Gwen. Gwen’s done nothing wrong. Dodie looks at me like I’m poison. I can’t punish her for thinking that. She’s right.” He braced his elbows on the table and roughly rubbed his face with his hands. When he finished, his eyes looked weak and blurred and out of focus. “I expect it’s all part of this whole damn mess about Medina.”

“I’m glad you can finally talk about Rick.”

“Pretending nothing happened hasn’t helped much. It never does. Dodie said it. We were trying too hard to be friends with him. And trying too hard to forget Lori’s death, too. It scabbed over, but it didn’t heal.”

“You never talked her death over with him?”

“No, I couldn’t. Then I wouldn’t.” Why couldn’t he add that he’d forgiven Rick weeks before? Could it be that he really hadn’t?

“I know you spoke too hastily to Rick the other night. Bad tempers run in your family. And Rick’s pretty sensitive. Getting blasted by both you and Dodie was too much for him. It scared him off. He won’t come back too easily. Hal, you can’t let this little spat get out of hand. Otherwise, you’ll have a full-fledged war on your hands. You’ll have to apologize.”

“Apologize?! I’m not about to apologize to him! I got rid of him! That’s what I wanted!” His stomach gave a kick, but he ignored it.

Bertha frowned.

“I know what you’re all thinking!” Hal jumped out of his chair. “I know you think it’s all my fault! I know you think I ran him off!”

“Hal….”

“I won’t listen to anymore of your accusations! A man has a right to peace and quiet in his own house! Leave me alone!” He stormed out of the kitchen, nearly knocking Gwen over with the swinging door.

Gwen’s eyes filled with wild fright. “What’s going on?” she whispered, although there was little danger of Hal’s hearing her. “We could hear him clear in the living room.”

“He’s feeling bad about Rick. But his pride won’t let him apologize.”

“Oh, Bertha. What are we going to do?”

“Go on living,” she snapped. Then softer, she added, “That’s all we can do.”

 

Bert Medina stumbled into the kitchen and dug his knuckles into sleep-reddened eyes. “Hey, kid! Where’s supper?”

Rick dumped his glass of water in the sink. “I didn’t fix any.”

“Well, move your butt and fry some eggs.”

“Get them yourself. I’m not hungry.”

Bert wove unsteadily on his feet. “I don’t give a damn if you’re hungry or not! Get busy!”

“Go to hell,” Rick muttered as he walked away.

“What?!” Bert grabbed a handful of Rick’s sweatshirt.

“Leave me alone, you drunken sot!” He shoved Bert.

But Bert was too strong for Rick and slapped him several times across the mouth. Rick grunted with each blow. Blood flew from his mouth with the last hard cuff.

“That’ll teach you some respect,” Bert growled as he pushed Rick aside. “Get the hell out of my sight!”

Rick crouched against the refrigerator and clawed its smooth sides to keep from falling. His head took a crazy whirl, and he shook away a growing darkness. Droplets of blood sprayed the kitchen floor.

Rick shielded his mouth with his hand and glared up at Bert. Then a devil stole over him. Instead of being cowed or angered or filled with hatred, Rick’s eyes seemed to beg Bert for more beating. His bloody lips curled up with a sardonic grin. His bloody fingers beckoned.

“What the….” Bert was so amazed that he backed away. “You’re crazy!” He took one more disbelieving look at Rick’s invitation, and then charged blindly into the living room.

Rick straightened and gingerly wiped blood from his lips. He sloshed water through his mouth and inspected his face in a hand mirror. The cut was small, but his cheek would bruise. He dumped ice cubes in a dishtowel and sat down at the table to deaden his pain. He shuddered as the cold penetrated his raw flesh. Then he nodded his head and grinned with crafty satisfaction.

 

Without Rick’s good influence, the Endicott home slipped back into its old bad habits. Everyone withdrew from each other. Dodie resumed her monster behavior. And the house itself seemed oddly unsettled. An air of expectancy filtered through the rooms as though the house awaited someone.

Randy looked up eagerly one evening to a noise in the garage. “Rick? Rick?” he asked brightly.

Gwen, who hadn’t spoken of Rick since her uncle told her not to, gazed steadily at Hal. He stared back at her, and then attacked a baked potato.

 

George cradled his phone and glanced at Hal. “That was Rick Medina. He said he’d meet you at the drugstore corner at seven.”

“Okay,” Hal mumbled from his desk as he intently read a report.

George watched Hal for several moments. “I thought Rick generally went over to your place on Saturdays.”

“Not anymore,” Hal muttered as he flipped a page.

George frowned. “What happened?”

Hal looked up sharply. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped.

George busied himself with his own work.

 

Hal pulled up to the drugstore corner just as the courthouse clock struck seven.

“Hey, Medina!” a teenage boy lounging in front of the drugstore yelled. “Your date’s here!” He and the three boys with him laughed.

Rick paid no attention to them. But as he passed the boys, the one who’d called to him said, “Oof!” and fell to the pavement.

Rick jumped in the patrol car and hunched in the corner. He stared at the lighted dash and said nothing.

Hal maneuvered his cruiser into traffic. “Looks like Donnie’s having trouble with his balance tonight.”

“He tripped over his loose tongue,” Rick mumbled.

Hal could’ve laughed if Rick wouldn’t have acted so grave. Laughter might’ve eased the tension in the patrol car. Both were trying too hard to be impersonal.

After a couple of silent blocks with Rick sitting moodily in his far corner, Hal said, “Don’t lean on the door handle. You’ll fall out and get splattered all over the street.”

Rick glared, but shifted his weight. He’d expected, would’ve almost welcomed, cross words. When they didn’t come, he relaxed. Lack of sleep and a poor appetite plus strain and guilt had exhausted Rick in a few days’ time. Now he let down his guard. He was so tired. Soon the warmth and quiet of the car affected him, and he leaned his head against the back of the seat and dozed.

Hal paused at a stop sign and waited for a line of traffic to pass. He glanced at Rick and was surprised to see that his eyes were closed in sleep. That look of vulnerable, childish innocence was on Rick’s face again. Hal remembered that look from the night he’d found Rick and Dodie asleep on the sofa. But tonight he appeared more tired, his young features drawn with fatigue. Gwen was right. Rick was scrawny, thinner, and more delicate. And something else was wrong, too.

Hal turned down a quiet residential street. “Who’ve you been fighting with, kid?”

“Hmm?” Rick opened his eyes and blinked.

“Who’ve you been fighting with?”

Rick shook his head. “Nobody.”

“Let me see your knuckles.” Hal’s eyes flicked over Rick’s smooth hands. “Okay, where’d you get the bruises on your face?”

“I’m clumsy. I tripped and fell against a door. My magic toes failed me.”

“Don’t give me any of your smart lip. I know someone hit you.”

“I tripped, I tell you!”

Irritated, Hal glared at houses which had done nothing to offend him. “Has your father been using you for a punching bag again?”

“What do you mean by that crack?”

“I know he talks with his fists when he gets drunk. It doesn’t bother him to hit someone smaller than he is.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Hal’s quiet voice discouraged any disagreement. “Why do you protect him? I know what he can do. I’ve seen the evidence.”

“When he hit me that night in the tavern, he was drunk.”

“I don’t mean then. I remember once when we brought your brother Casey into the hospital. He was only four, but he was black and blue and had a broken arm. He hurt so bad he couldn’t cry. He just laid there on the table and stared at us. If anyone reached out to help him, he screamed. It was almost more than we men could take. What had him so scared of men? Seems his father got drunk and beat him up for being noisy. I could’ve killed your father that night. Nobody, but nobody, beats up on kids if I’m around.”

Rick bit his lips together.

Hal breathed deeply. “Your mother claimed that Casey fell. She was pregnant with you and couldn’t afford to have her husband in jail and not working. So we had to let him go. I warned him, though, clear back then, that he’d better not beat up anymore kids.”

“Well, I’m no kid!”

“According to the law, you’re a juvenile. And I’m duty bound to report those marks you’re wearing. I’ll have to ask your father how they got there, and he’d better have some pretty good answers.”

Rick sat up. “Don’t do that! He’ll….”

“He’ll, what?”

Rick slumped back. “Never mind. Just don’t go sticking your nose in. You’ll only cause me trouble.”

“I have to, kid. It’s part of my job.”

“I’m getting real tired of hearing about that damned job of yours! You know what you can do with it, don’t you?”

Hal’s eyes flashed blue fire. “You’re getting pretty mouthy again, aren’t you?!”

Rick held up his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry about that crack. I was out of line. Look, I can take care of myself. Just leave me and my old man alone, okay?”

Hal sizzled. “Gladly!”

They rode in silence for a block, and then Rick asked softly, “Did you get the motorbike fixed?”

Hal fought to concentrate on the question. “Yeah. Bill Davis did a real good job on it, just like you said he would.”

“I’ll pay you for the work.”

“No need. Dodie can take it out in riding time.”

“She still insists on riding it?”

“You know Dodie,” Hal answered and wished he hadn’t. It sounded too personal.

“Have you shown her how to ride it, yet?”

“Nah. I never seem to be able to find the time.”

“Look, if you wouldn’t mind, I could, well, come over and, ah, teach her. I wouldn’t mind doing it, and I got the time, and….” His voice trailed off.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I wouldn’t mind. Honest, I wouldn’t.”

Those innocent, pleading eyes angered Hal. “No!”

Rick’s eyes hardened and stared out the window.

“Look, kid, it’s not what you think it is….”

“Oh, I know what it is, alright.” He absently tapped on the windowpane, and then stopped. “You don’t want me around, do you?” he asked as he glared at Hal.

Hal started to protest, but Rick cut him off.

“You’re scared I’ll hurt one of them, aren’t you? Do you think they’ll all wind up dead if I’m around?”

“Now, wait a….”

“No, you wait. I like those people. All of them. I couldn’t hurt them. And if I did, it’d be an accident, just like it was with Lori.” A new thought struck him. “But maybe it’s not only their safety you’re worried about. Maybe you just don’t want me to like them. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want me to like them, do you? And, more importantly, you don’t want them to like me, either. Why’s that? Are you afraid you’ll lose their love to me like you did Lori’s?”

Hal’s eyes flashed in anger. “My family is none of your concern! You should’ve never met them. You’re just a kid I have to haul around on Saturday nights. That’s all.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m nobody special. I’m just so much dirt you got on your hands and don’t know how to wash off.”

“Don’t I?! I’m tired of listening to your whining and your smart lip. This is the last night you’re riding with me.”

“Why? You think I’ve been punished enough?”

“I think we both have,” Hal muttered. “If you haven’t learned anything by now, you never will.”

“But my sentence isn’t up!”

“As far as I’m concerned, your sentence will never be up. The law may forgive you, but I never will. I hope Lori’s death haunts you for all your miserable life. I hope it rots the heart out of you. I hope you burn in eternal hellfire for killing her.”

“I have to carry that awful burden forever? If God and the courts can forgive me, why can’t you? Please….”

“No!”

“It’ll hurt you more than it will me. I know. Why do you think I keep forgiving my father? Jesus said….”

“Don’t you go preaching to me, boy! Just shut up!”

“So, you’re washing your hands of me, huh? Think you’ve done your duty? The way the Law required? Think I’ve been rehabilitated? Think Judge Farley will approve your glowing report? Think I’ll be a better driver from now on?”

Hal smarted from Rick’s intuitive words about Lori and from the taunting cuts about his job. He wanted to hurt Rick back. “Hell, off the record, I don’t care how you drive. But the next time you decide to crack up a car, don’t have some young, innocent girl with you. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. I doubt if anyone would miss you, anyway. Just don’t take some decent people with you. We could use them, but you, you’re not worth a damn.”

Rick winced. “Have you ever been wrong?”

“Of course, I have!” Hal spat out between clenched teeth. “I’d be a fool to say otherwise.”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll admit it.” His hard eyes shot off bright sparks. “But I’m right about you, kid. You’re murdering scum.”

Rick drew his breath in sharply. “I didn’t want Lori to die. I loved her, just as I know you loved her.”

“You’re too young to know what real love is.”

“And you do? Then how come Dodie’s a little bully? Why does Randy follow an outsider around? And why is Gwen afraid to breathe for fear she’ll get sent away? If you love them, you sure don’t show it.”

“You’re sticking your nose into my business!”

“Then make them your business! They’re your family. Let them know it. You’re lucky you’ve got them. Don’t make the same mistake you made with Lori.”

“What do you mean?!” 

“You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean. That’s what’s crawling around in your gut and making you sick, isn’t it? I know, and you know that I know. It’s bothered you ever since we started riding together. Seeing me just makes you remember.”

“You better shut up!”

“Why? I thought the law liked to learn the truth, and this is one time it will. You weren’t any father to Lori. You were always too busy for her until you discovered you couldn’t handle her anymore, and then it was too late. If Lori had found any real love at home, she wouldn’t have come looking for it from the son of the town drunk. Hell, you weren’t any better father than my old man.”

Hal swerved to the curb. “Get out!”

“Getting rid of me won’t change the truth. You failed with Lori, and do you know why? You’re a lawman, not a person. You’re a sheriff, not a father. You don’t have to guts to face anyone without that badge. You’re hiding behind it.”

“Got me all figured out, huh?” Hal gripped the steering wheel. “Well, I don’t give a damn about your opinion. You’re just a smart-lipped kid that doesn’t mean a thing to me. Now, get out of here! And stay out of my way. Or by God, I’ll bust you up myself.”

“That’s a threat!”

“You bet it is. And stay away from my family. You’ve caused us enough trouble.”

“Don’t worry. I never want to see any of you again, either.” He stormed out of the car, and then stopped abruptly. He gripped the door hard and leaned his bent head against it.

Never was a long time.

“Kid? Is something wrong?”

Rick stiffened. “After all this time, you don’t even know my name.” His eyes burned with suppressed anger. “I really am nobody to you, am I? Well, that can work two ways. I thought you were something special, but no more. You’ve finally set me free tonight. I don’t need you anymore. And understand this, too: I am a person and I’m going to exist, in spite of you and without you. I won’t bother you anymore. You’re free of me, too. But you might ask yourself how many others you’re hurting with your indifference. It’s too late for me and Lori, but maybe you can square yourself with the others. Knowing you, though, you’ll never do it.” Rick smirked. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? That’s why I feel sorry for you, Sheriff.” His smile deepened into bitterness. “Funny, you don’t have a name, either. Maybe we’re just a pair of blanks. I guess we had that much in common. For awhile, I thought there was more.” The bitter smile dissolved into thoughtfulness. “Well, at least you proved my theory about you. I was kind of hoping I was wrong.” He frowned at Hal’s bent head. “Or was I? Sheriff? What’s the matter? Can’t you face me? Were you wrong, too?”

Hal was drawn, against his will, to look up. He knew he couldn’t hide the unexplained sadness in his naked face.

Rick’s sharp eyes riveted him against the seat. Hal couldn’t break away from that intense stare. He felt like he was going to suffocate.

Stark truth, stripped of all illusions and pretense, vibrated between them. Rick dared to show that truth. Petty quarrels withered before his strong emotions. Words that couldn’t be spoken were traded and understood. Words that amazed Hal.

Rick’s anger and hurt pride blazed at Hal, but underneath them shone loneliness, sadness, and something that Hal could only interpret as longing.

Rick relaxed, and a wistful smile floated over his lips. “Goodbye, Sheriff,” he said softly. “You could be one hell of a guy. It’s too bad you aren’t.” He carefully shut the car door and backed toward a giant oak tree. Again, the faint, sad smile curved along his lips as he looked into Hal’s eyes once more.

Something pierced Hal through the chest and left him with almost a physical pain.

Then Rick melted into the night shadows.

A vibrant electrical force field prevented Hal from moving. He stared at the spot where Rick had last stood. It seemed to glow. Sweat dappled Hal’s forehead as he shook with trepidation. Gradually, the paralysis and fear lessened. Gradually, the spot in front of the big tree became merely a blank space again.

Those blazing eyes haunted Hal. He burned rubber getting away. But neither speed nor cursing could ease the tightness in his chest or a nagging, unknown dread that he’d done something terribly wrong.

The prowl car wove erratically as Hal used one big paw to fight away a stinging mist in his eyes. How dare that insolent kid say those things to him! Why, he was the sheriff of Carroll County!

On South Main, Hal lost control of his cruiser. It bounced across the curbing in front of the abandoned hatchery and careened toward that boarded-up building. Hal fought to regain the street. After narrowly missing a lamppost, the squad bumped an empty wastebasket and rolled it down the sidewalk. The metal can clattered along the cement, but no one appeared to investigate the noise. The patrol car dipped as it crossed the curbing again and landed with a grunt on the deserted pavement.

Stomping the brakes, Hal halted the car with a metal-grinding screech. Cutting the engine, he pressed his head against the steering wheel and wept. His right fist beat on the dash as he cursed: “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

But even with his eyes shut, those other blue eyes burned into his soul. Questioning, disappointed, sad, angry, hurt, frightened, rebuffed, and something else. Something that had cut Hal to the quick and nearly suffocated him. Something that was making him cry now.

“Damn him! Damn that kid!” But he knew he cursed himself, not Rick. He’d failed. Hal didn’t realize it until now, but he’d been tested ever since Lori’s death. Not by Judge Farley, not by Rick, but by himself. And he had failed. Miserably.

“I do the best job I know how!” But, even as he spoke, he knew he’d been lying to himself. Maybe he was a good sheriff, but he wasn’t a very good human being. Until now, male ego had hidden his shortcomings from himself. But Rick had stripped Hal’s well-guarded faults of their protective gauze and set them out in the sunshine to taunt Hal. The irony was that Rick hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the faults, either.

“Lord, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hal moaned. But he didn’t know what he was sorry for. And then he knew. His wild sobs ceased as he stared down the darkened, deserted street. More than himself or his job, he’d failed Rick. That hurt him deeply because he knew Rick had been depending on him. Now, all that trust was lost.

“I’m sorry I can’t be what you need, son. You’ve expected too much of me. I’m just a man, after all, not stuffing for a uniform.”

And the rest of it washed over Hal, too. Finally, he recognized what he’d seen in Rick’s eyes. It was something that intensified Rick’s brave words, yet cancelled out their sting. It was the Truth that Rick couldn’t’ hide and Hal couldn’t misinterpret. It had cut Hal to the very center of his being and had left him without breath. It was something Hal couldn’t face honestly until only a moment ago. 

It was love and hate so thoroughly mixed together that Rick couldn’t separate them. If Hal had recognized only one emotion, hate, he could’ve understood and accepted. But, both…

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry. Oh, Rick.”

A wave of self-loathing and emptiness ripped through his emotionally exhausted body, and the bitter tears he wished to shed refused to flow.

Hal hadn’t minded being a hero, after all. And now that he no longer was one, he wished like hell he was.

“I don’t blame you for hating me, Rick, but I don’t feel very good about it. As for the other, you’ve picked yourself another loser, kid. Find someone who can really help you; I can’t even help myself. And I do need help, don’t I? You tried. But that’s all finished now. And it’s my own damned fault. No, kid, the best thing I can do for you is to line out your old man, and then get out of your life for good. You don’t need anymore trouble from me.”

Hal blew his nose and continued his patrol.

Oddly, he felt better than he had in days. The guilt was gone. He felt justified in his wrath against Rick. Now, he didn’t have to act indifferent. The cold apathy was real. The evening’s angry words and tears had purged Hal of feeling. Rick Medina was simply another police matter.

 

A raw November wind whipped Rick’s face until it was red and stinging. Rick stood in the shadows of Phil Gibson’s garage and watched Dodie and Randy playing in their backyard. He’d waited a long time before they appeared, and his heart ached with loneliness when he finally saw them. Randy ran on sturdy legs today, but wouldn’t be running except for Rick’s exercises. Dodie played games with Randy today, but wouldn’t be playing except for Rick’s teaching her to be a person. Rick had changed them and had loved them, but apparently he hadn’t given them enough of himself to love in return. The tightness in his chest hurt. How he longed to be with them again!

Dodie pushed Randy to the wet ground, and Randy began to howl. Rick stepped forward to stop her, but the back door flew open and Hal ran out with Gwen close behind him. Rick gasped. He hadn’t expected that sudden wrench to his heart when he saw Hal without warning.

Hal waded between his youngsters and pulled Dodie off Randy. His angry voice carried over the neighborhood.

“Why did you hit Randy?!”

“He wouldn’t leave me alone! He kept following me!”

“He just wants to play with you.”

“Well, I don’t want to play with him! Tell him to leave me alone!”

“If you want to stay outside, you’ll play with Randy and play with him nicely.”

‘Well, I’m not going to do that!”

“Go to your room then!”

“You like Randy better than me! You hate Rick, and you hate me!”

“I said, go to your room, or I’ll give you a spanking!”

“Make me!” she sassed.

“You’ve been asking for this!” Hal grabbed her upper arm and aimed a heavy hand at her backside. Anger made the blow harder than he intended, and Dodie yelped in pain. Abashed, he released her arm.

Dodie rubbed her thigh and glared at him with tears in her eyes. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?! If someone doesn’t agree with you, you hit him!”

“I lost my temper,” Hal answered sheepishly. “I’m sorry I struck you, honey, I….”

“How many times have you hit Rick?”

Hal colored. “I never….”

“Have you ever hurt him? Did you ever make him cry?” She swatted tears off her flushed cheeks.

The color drained out of Hal’s face. “I never, hurt him,” he choked. “I never laid a hand on him.”

“There’s other ways to hurt him, and I bet you’ve done that! I bet he’s crying right now.”

“Dodie, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hal could barely speak. “Just, go into the house.” He absently reached for Randy’s hand. “Come on, son. You go in the house, too.”

Randy jerked back his hand. “Play!”

“I’ll stay with him, Uncle Hal.”

Gwen and Randy were left alone in the backyard. The cold wind tossed Gwen’s dark hair, and she shivered as she snuggled against her coat collar. She huddled at the picnic table and watched as Randy romped across the yard.

Thoughts of her broken fingernail and tomorrow’s chemistry test flitted briefly through her mind. Dodie shouldn’t have said those things to Uncle Hal! Chris was certainly a nice boy. She’d better get over her depression soon, though, or Chris would lose interest in her. Poor Dodie. Poor Uncle Hal. 

A flash of color caught her eye. Gwen glanced toward the spirea bush and gasped. Someone in a blue and white athletic jacket was hiding in the shadows of Gibson’s garage. Gwen nearly called out, but quickly realized that the bent figure didn’t want to be recognized. Dodie had predicted one thing accurately. Right now, Rick was crying.

 

Rick shuffled into his house and absently hung his jacket on its peg behind the front door. His mouth curved down in a frown, and his eyes lacked interest and sparkle. He held onto his coat sleeve and stared into the dark recesses of the corner.

“Rick?! Is that you, boy?!”

Rick woke up. “Yes, Dad. It’s me.”

“Come on out to the kitchen! We’re having a party!”

Rick could hear the talking and low laughter before he got to the door. He’d never seen any of these people before.

“Lola, this is my son, Rick.”

Over-sized blonde curls were tossed, and red, red lips revealed beaver teeth. Lola’s green eyes flicked over Rick in appreciation. “Like father, like son,” she murmured. She patted white ruffles at her throat. “He’s a looker, Bertie. Hello, Rick.”

Rick blushed. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“This is Lola’s husband, Charlie.” Bert indicated a muscular man with black, wavy hair and dark rimmed glasses.

“How you doing, kid?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Fine, sir.”

“And this is Jake.”

Jake was a wizened old man who needed a shave and a set of teeth. He showed Rick his smooth gums, and his bloodshot eyes glistened.

“Sit down, son. I invited my friends over for supper. There’s plenty for all.”

“You’re a mighty lucky boy, Rick,” Lola said with a friendly smile as she made room for him at the table. “Your dad makes the best chili I’ve ever tasted.”

Rick felt his heart stop. Bert handed him a steaming bowl; and, sure enough, it was filled with chili.

“You can’t get chili this good even at the lucky Lady Tavern,” Lola said as she dug into her bowl.

The soup tasted like pungent ashes to Rick. The Endicotts might be having chili for supper tonight, too.

“I made it a little spicy, son. You better have something to wash it down with.” Bert winked at his friends. “Want a beer?”

“Why not?” Rick murmured. “Sure, I do.”

Lola raised an eyebrow. “Ho! Ho! He’s not as young as he looks, Bertie.”

Bert frowned. “Are you sure, boy?”

Rick scowled. “I’m among friends, aren’t I?”

Bert handed him a glass of the golden, fizzling liquid with its white fur hat. He glanced at Rick, but Rick paid him no attention. He watched the bubbles rise in the glass.

“Don’t let it go flat, honey,” Lola advised. She raised her own glass. “Bottoms up!”

As Rick lifted the glass to his lips, he smelled damp, rotten logs lying long forgotten in a leaf-enshrouded forest. Was somebody kidding?! This stuff smelled like something long dead.

Rick squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. His taste buds objected to the strong bitterness, and his stomach rebelled against the mixture of beer and chili. Will power kept the stomach from emptying. Rick burped. “That was pretty good stuff. Can I have some more?”

“You better take it slow, honey,” Lola advised as she patted his hand. “Nobody said you had to chug it. That stuff has a stiff kickback to it.”

Rick smiled lazily at her, but there was no humor in his vapid eyes. “It makes the chili better.”

Lola and the men exchanged glances. They knew all about drinking, and Rick was trying to get quietly drunk.

The hours passed, and Rick discovered that his father’s friends were fun to be with. But the increasing laughter and the spreading warmth of the beer through his body failed to loosen the icy knot in his abdomen. Maybe, if he drank more, he could forget the Endicotts completely.

Hours later, Rick vomited the beer and the chili. It was a physical reaction and didn’t affect his mind. He did it as automatically as he’d lifted the beer glass to his lips all evening. After the first bitterness, the taste of the beer had ceased to register with him. And, after awhile, he had forgotten the Endicotts.

But lying on his bed in the dark, wee hours of the morning, he had to cope with his queasy stomach and reality. Memories returned then and wouldn’t let him sleep. Ghosts of living persons haunted him. He was dog-tired, but his eyes refused to stay closed. Shadows were dear companions.

The whole bottom had dropped out of his world. He’d never felt so alone. Soon it’d be morning, and he’d have to go to school. He’d be sick with a hangover, but that really didn’t bother him, either. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

The man behind the star in Rick’s dream had been Hal, all right. And Rick still couldn’t fight his way past that shining star.

 

“Rick! Wait a minute!” Gwen called as she ran to catch up with him outside the high school after classes.

Rick slowed his pace but kept on walking.

Gwen, out of breath, hugged her schoolbooks and was grateful for Rick’s shuffling steps as she walked beside him.

“I wanted to, talk to, you, Rick,” she gasped. Her warm breath puffed out Indian smoke signals in the cold air.

“Fire away.” He absently studied the pattern of bare tree branches against the pale sun.

“Why don’t you come over to our house anymore?”

“Because the chief honcho told me to get lost.”

“He didn’t mean it, Rick.”

“He did, too, mean it,” he snarled.

“Not really….”

Rick stopped. His head had throbbed all day from his hangover, and he was in no mood for spun-sugar reasoning. “Look, Gwen, you’re a nice kid. I like you a lot. But you get romantic daydreams confused with cold reality. Your uncle is on me like ugly, and no pretending on your part is going to change that. So, go preach your Christian doctrine of brotherly love someplace where it’ll do some good.” He smirked. “Hell, try it out on your uncle. Now, there’s someone who could really use it. On second thought, he’s too busy being the big, bad sheriff to hear you.”

“But there’s other people who miss you. Dodie and Randy are too young to understand why you stopped coming to see them. They want you to come back.”

“Dodie doesn’t like me anymore, and Randy would like anybody who’d play those silly kid games with him. I don’t have time for any of that stuff. Besides, I was just messing around with them so their old man would treat me better. But nothing cuts any ice with that cold fish.”

Gwen thought of the boy she’d seen weeping in the shadows of Gibson’s garage. “But don’t you miss us at all?”

“Why? I’ve still got my home. You’ve all seem to forget that I do have a family of my own. I don’t need anybody else’s. Besides, as soon as I can get some money scraped together, I’m blowing this town. And I’m never coming back. There’s nobody here I’d ever care to see again.”

“Never? Wouldn’t you want to see me? I thought we were friends.”

“Look, kid, I feel sorry for you because you gypped out of real folks and all. But that doesn’t mean I’d come back to see you, like you were my sister or something.”

“But we all need somebody, Rick, someone to come home to, someone to think of when we’re far away, someone who’ll be thinking of us.”

“I’ve got a mother and a brother somewhere. They’re far away and they can think of me. And after I leave, my old man can think of me, if he’s ever sober enough to remember me.”

“Oh, Rick, if I could only make you understand how much we all need you….”

“You still don’t understand, do you?” His mouth twisted into a tight-lipped grin. “I don’t need you or your family. The Endicotts mean nothing to me, and that’s the way I want it. I can do just fine by myself. Now, get lost.”

“Oh, Rick, please. You said you loved me. I need to know that you still do.” She started to cry. “We were so happy. Don’t let it end like this. I love you, too.”

His face darkened with fury and his eyes blazed. “Don’t talk like that! Love me, hell! How could you learn to love in that family? From that man?! You have to be able to FEEL something before you can love, and he can’t!”

“I, I don’t understand you. But I do care about you; really, I do.”

A new, cruel look came into his eyes; and Rick stepped closer to her. “Where’s your mind been, Rick, old pal? Maybe the little lady’s been offering more than friendship all along, and you were just too blind to catch on.” He grabbed Gwen’s arms. “Is that right? Did you want to be more than friends?”

Before she could answer, he bent and scoured her mouth with a brutal, degrading kiss.

In wide-eyed horror, Gwen pushed him away and wiped the kiss off her trembling lips with the back of her shaking hand.

“There, now, sugar. Isn’t that what you’ve really wanted all along?” A cruel smirk distorted his face.

Gwen started to shake her head, slowly at first, then much faster. “No, no, no!” She turned and ran crying down the street.

Rick’s taunting, mirthless laughter followed her. Then, it abruptly stopped. He broke a leafless branch out of a small maple and absently fingered it. Moodily, he threw it away and continued his shuffling down the sidewalk.


	19. The Calm

“Coming!”

Rick answered the knock on the front door of his home to find Bertha Mendoza standing there. He grinned at her, and then remembered about his estrangement with the Endicotts and let the smile die on his lips.

“May I come in?”

“O-of course.” He stepped aside, but began grabbing newspapers and clothing to hide them.

“You needn’t do that. I came to see you, not your house.” Still she couldn’t help but look around the drab living room. “No wonder you liked our place. This isn’t very cheerful. I guess this is what they call a male domain. There’s not a woman’s touch anywhere.”

“Dad got rid of everything that reminded him of Mom. I even had to hide snapshots of her so he wouldn’t burn them.”

She rustled a brown paper sack that she carried. “I brought you a batch of brownies and a quart of chili. I thought you might like some home cooking.”

Rick looked at the sack with interest, and then shook his head. “No thanks, Bertha.”

“No thanks?! Why not?” She compressed her lips. “So, you’re back to not eating Hal’s food again, eh? Well, he doesn’t know I cooked these things for you. He doesn’t even know I’m over here.”

“It’s, still, his, food. He bought it.”

“Would you accept it if someone else paid for it?”

“Well, I, sure, I would.”

She pushed the brown sack into his hands. “Then take it. I’ll pay him for it out of my wages.”

He gave her a thin smile. “Thanks.”

“How have you been?”

Rick shrugged. “Okay.”

“I’ve missed seeing you around the place.”

“I’ve been busy here.”

Bertha glanced at an armchair. “Mind if I sit down?”

“My dad might be back at any time.”

“Then I should leave?”

“It might be best.”

“I can’t believe you want to be alone so much.”

“It’s true.”

“Are you forgetting the fun you had at our place? The friendship you found there?”

“That’s over with.”

“You can turn your back on us just like that?”

“Please, Bertha! Please. I was just starting to heal. Don’t rip off the scab.”

“Speaking of scabs, Dodie’s knee is getting better. And Randy wonders where you are.”

“I don’t want to hear about them.”

“And my presence makes you uncomfortable, right? Good. You make me angry.”

“Angry?”

“Once I told you to leave us out of your fight with Hal. But now you can’t. We’re smack in the center of it, and we don’t like it.”

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“And I’ve been remembering something you told us once, too. You said you loved us and to remind you of it if you ever forgot it. Well, I’m reminding you.”

Rick squirmed. “Don’t….”

“We’ll be having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Won’t you join us?”

Rick jerked spasmodically. “You know I can’t! He and I, we had a fight.”

“I know. I was there.”

“No, you weren’t! There was another fight. Last Saturday night. On patrol. In the car. It was a bad one.”

“So, that’s what’s been wrong with him.”

“He hates me, Bertha. It’s all out in the open, like it was at first. He doesn’t want to be around me anymore.”

“And how do you feel about him?”

“I want to forget him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t want to think about him.”

“Do you feel betrayed? Angry?”

“And hurt,” he whispered. “But-- Please! My whole system’s upset already.”

“Don’t you think he was affected, too?”

His eyes widened. “Is his stomach bothering him again?”

“He’s taking his medicine and being real careful. But, yes, he is having trouble.”

“Damn! You think it’s all my fault, don’t you?!”

“I didn’t come over here today to reproach you. I think you’re doing enough of that to yourself.” She rested her arm on his shoulder, touched the crisp hair behind his ear with her fingertips, and gazed into his wistful eyes. “I want you to know that nothing’s changed between us. I’ll be close whenever you need me. I’m not Hal or Dodie or Gwen or even Randy. I can be very flexible, in spite of what you think. And I’m still your friend.”

He bent his head.

“What I’m saying makes things tougher for you, doesn’t it?” she said softly. “A clean break would be easier on everybody, right? That’s what Hal thinks, too. Maybe you’re both right. But from where I’m standing, the break doesn’t look all that clean.” She saw Rick’s lips pinch together. “It’s going to hurt, no matter what. And you don’t need me needling you. Whatever you have to do regarding Hal is your business. Outside of killing him, that is.”

Rick laughed nervously and tried to smile.

“I want to stay neutral. And I’ll have you know that’s harder to do than taking sides. Trouble is, I don’t know which side to take. I agree with you both, and I disagree with you both. And I resent that you’ve both put me in this spot! But that’s my problem. I don’t know what to tell you to do about Hal. I have no advice. Except to be good to yourself. You look terrible! If you and Hal were meant to be enemies, you don’t need to kill yourself over it. Just survive. Stop torturing yourself.”

He looked up with doleful eyes and threw his arms around her. A tremor passed through his body as he buried his face in Bertha’s shoulder.

“Some tough hoodlum you are!” Gentleness softened her hatchet features into Madonna-like qualities.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered from deep in her embrace. From that position, he couldn’t see the glimmer of one of her rare smiles.

 

“Here,” Bertha said as she handed a five dollar bill to Hal that evening in the living room. “Take this.”

Mystified, Hal dropped his newspaper and turned the bill over in his hands. “Why?”

“Don’t ask. Just take it. I bought something personal out of the household money, and I owe you a refund.”

The green paper fluttered in the air. “Here. Take this back. You know you can use the household money any way you want. I don’t want a strict accounting. You don’t have to be giving me money back.”

“Nope. Won’t hear of it,” she said as she walked away. “I’ve got principles, too. Now my conscience is clear.”

Hal stared at the bill, shrugged, and finally placed it in his billfold. “Dodie, do you think Bertha’s acting strange tonight?”

Dodie lay on her stomach in front of the television. She looked over her shoulder. “No stranger than usual.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s Bertha!” She turned back to her children’s show.

Hal propped his chin in his hand and thought. Maybe it was merely more of Bertha’s off behavior. Oh, well, he’d make sure got the five dollars back in a special Christmas present from the children. She wouldn’t refuse that.

Hal picked up his newspaper and forgot the incident of the five-dollar bill.

 

Lori’s eyes shone with dark fires. “Look at that shooting star, Rick! Isn’t it beautiful?”

But all Rick could see was Lori. He leaned on the steering wheel of Honeysuckle Rose and memorized Lori’s flawless skin glowing in the moonlight.

“Don’t you wonder what galaxy it came from, Rick” What kinds of life forms are out there?”

Rick continued to gaze at her. “They say that a shooting star is a sign of approaching death,” he murmured.

“How morbid! Who’s ready for death? I’ve got too much to do yet. I’m going to be the first woman on the moon, you know.”

“Or a poet in Peru or an actress in Athens.”

“Anything’s possible. Oh, Rick, the world is waiting!”

“We can have the world right here in Beardsley.”

“It’s enough for now.”

He grinned fondly at the determination on her young face. “You’re a funny girl,” he said. “And I love you for it.”

Lori turned toward him. “And you’re a funny guy,” she said after a few moments. She gave him a cryptic smile. “And I guess I love you, too.”

“Me, and my car, you mean.” Rick leaned forward and gently kissed her lips. “You’re wonderful,” he whispered.

“Are you?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you wonderful, too?”

“Only you know that.”

Rick started to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

“Prove it.”

“Hmm?”

“Prove it.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re wonderful. Take me down to the drugstore for a soda. Or let‘s go see the new Clint Eastwood movie at the show house.”

“Your dad might see us.”

“I don’t care.”

Rick pulled away from her. “Well, I do. He’ll ground you permanently and roast my tail. I don’t want to cross him.”

Lori folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Oh, you think he’s such a big deal, and he’s just my dad.”

“He’s been fair to me, Lori, and people generally don’t treat me that way. Besides, I thought the idea was to see each other without your dad finding out.”

She unfolded her arms. “It isn’t any fun unless we take chances.” She snuggled closer to him. “I thought you liked to take chances.”

“Not with losing you, Lori.”

“Then let’s go out on the flats and go fast, faster than the moon!”

Rick shook his head and chuckled softly. “You’re really something, did you know that? Go faster than the moon? Nobody can, in a car. But I’d try. Anything for you.”

She gripped his hand that held the steering wheel. Her electric eyes caught fire. “Would you go anywhere with me?!”

His eyes worshipped her. “You know I would.”

“Then come with me now,” she whispered. “We’ll race the night wind.”

Rick frowned. How could Lori be with him when she was….

Come with me now. We’ll race the night wind. Come with me now. And we’ll race-- Rick! You’re not keeping your promise! You didn’t come with me.

Rick moaned and turned over in bed.

Where are you? You promised. Rick! You promised to come with me. Now!

“Not now,” he mumbled in his sleep. “Soon. Soon.”

I’ll make you forget. It’s so peaceful here. Your world only wants to hurt you. Leave it.

Rick twisted. “It’s the only world I know. Besides, your father….”

I’m waiting, Rick. Forget my father. He doesn’t care about you. I want you with me. 

Now.

“Soon, Lori. Soon.”

 

“Have a big Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, Hal?” George asked amiably as he hung his hat on a peg in the sheriff’s office. He was obviously in fine spirits.

“Yeah,” Hal answered absently as he leafed through a stack of papers on his desk. His mood wasn’t as jovial as George’s. “It was a little quiet, though. I expect we’ll be eating turkey hash for a week.”

“Our dinner was quiet, too. Jim and Helen and the boys visited her folks in Tulsa. They got back after midnight, so Helen might be late getting to work.”

“She’s already called. I’m watching the phone for her. Probably didn’t seem like much of a holiday with just you and Lucy at the table.”

“Oh, we had company. Rick ate with us.”

Hal looked up sharply. “Medina?”

“Yeah. He sure is a nice boy. Polite, too. I’m surprised he wasn’t over to your place, though.”

“I told you before that that’s all over with, George,” Hal said brusquely. “We don’t even mention his name.”

“Pity. You could’ve really helped him, Hal.”

“George….”

George held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t press it, but it’s still a pity. He seemed real grateful that Lucy and I included him. It’s a shame that someone that young has to be so lonely.”

“It’s tough on any age. But he’s got his father.”

“Some father! Bert Medina was sacked out on their couch all day. He didn’t even know Rick was gone.”

“Sounds normal.”

George frowned. “Not really. It was a strange day. There’s an undercurrent working in Rick. He was tight as catgut on a violin. He tried to act like nothing was bothering him, but I knew different. Something’s wrong with that boy, Hal. Something’s boiling in him, but he’s trying hard to push it down and forget it. He doesn’t want to care about anything, but he does. He’s going to blow up soon. Anything could happen.”

Hal slammed down his pencil. “You and Bertha! She thinks he’s suicidal.”

“Suicidal,” George repeated thoughtfully. “She could be right.”

“Are you serious?” Hal considered what George had said, and then waved him away. “Nah. You’re wrong. Forget him.” He turned back to his paper work.

“Rick says he’s through riding with you. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“But it’s only been eleven weeks. His sentence was for twelve.”

Hal looked up. “So?”

“So he’ll go to prison if he doesn’t ride patrol tomorrow night.”

“He’s not riding with me.”

“He could go to prison because of your stubbornness, Hal. No matter what you think of him personally, you can’t send a child into that jungle. What kind of revenge would that be? To destroy a human life, a person you’ve known….”

“Do you know why-- Oh, skip it. If you think so much of him, why don’t you let him ride with you? That ought to please everyone, including D.L. Farley. I’m sure he’ll bend his verdict a little for one night.”

 

Lucy Adams opened her front door, and a happy smile spread across her pleasant face. “Rick Medina! Come in! My goodness, child, you should’ve let George pick you up at your place! It’s awfully cold out, isn’t it?”

Rick stepped into the small living room furnished with comfortable Colonial furniture. Lucy’s hand-crocheted doilies littered the chairs and tables while George’s trophy pheasants and bird prints lined three walls. The entire fourth wall was banked with shelves. Books with paper scraps for markers were crammed into every available space. The room was a cluttered mess, and Rick loved it. He’d spent most of Thanksgiving afternoon reading book titles and reveling in the room’s homey atmosphere while he pretended to watch a football game with George.

Lucy pulled Rick’s coat off his back over his protests and shooed him toward an overstuffed chair. “Sit down! Sit down! No use wearing out your feet. Or would you like some supper? There’s some baked beans left in the pot and corn pone to go with it. George ate late; that’s why he isn’t ready yet.”

Rick seated himself. “No, thanks, Lucy. I already ate.”

Lucy sat in a chair near Rick. She was a female counterpart to George: a short, thin, birdlike woman with silver-gray hair. Bifocals perched on her button nose. Unlike most housewives, she wore dresses. She said she felt unladylike in slacks. Truth was, George liked to see her in dresses, and she’d do anything to please George.

And she liked to touch people. Her thin, corded hands were never quiet. She reached over and squeezed Rick’s arm. An earnest look crossed her lined face. “George said that you and Hal had quarreled. I’m sorry, Rick. I thought you two were good friends.”

Rick flushed and turned away. “We were never friends, ma’am. Just forced companions.”

“Oh? How sad.” She frowned, leaned back to think, and quite forgot her guest’s presence.

George grinned as he walked out of the bedroom. “Hi, Rick. I thought I heard voices.” He winked at Rick. “Got me a little worried for a moment. I thought Lucy was talking to herself again.”

Lucy jumped out of her chair. “The only reason I talk to myself is because you won’t answer me, George Adams! Get out of here now, so I can watch television. It’s better company than you are, anyway.”

“She likes to watch those young television cops busting out of their tight pants. It’s her thrill for the day.”

“Well, I’m glad you admit it! Now, get to your patrol.” She touched his arm. “And hurry home.”

George pressed his forehead against hers. “I sure will, old sweetie. I never could stay away from you for very long.” He smiled softly as he gazed into her watery blue eyes.

The show of simple, genuine affection embarrassed Rick. Abruptly, he turned away from the forever-young lovers and stumbled into the cocktail table.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he dove to retrieve a ceramic pheasant that had fallen to the carpet.

Lucy pulled away from George. “Now, see what you’ve gone and done, old man. You’ve embarrassed the boy. You should pitch your woo in private.”

He gave her a broad wink. “Anytime, old sweetie. I get off at eleven.”

“I’ll be waiting, old man.”

“Come on, Rick, let’s go.” George led the way to the door. “Wonder which fellow will come sparking her when we leave?” he asked in a loud voice.

Shocked, Rick stared at Lucy and expected to hear a fight. But nothing but soft looks passed between her and George.

Out in the car, Rick mulled over the conversation.

“What are you so quiet about, son?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“No need to be so solemn about it.” George grinned. “What were you thinking about? Me and Lucy? Hope you didn’t mind our teasing. I’ve been in love with that woman for fifty-five years, ever since we started first grade together out at the old Centennial school near our folks’ farms. I’ve always considered myself lucky to have found her when I was so young instead of passing a lot of lonely years by myself.”

Rick pinched his lips together and thought of Lori, but George didn’t notice.

“Back then, in the first grade, Lucy had the blondest hair I’d ever seen. It had a way of falling around her shoulders like a wispy shawl. She looked like a China doll, but she had a backbone of steel. Still does, too. She’s one in a million, all right.” He chuckled. “You might not believe this, but I once had black hair. I’ve got a little Cherokee in me. Makes me a good tracker.”

“What have you ever tracked?”

“The scent of Lucy’s muffins to the kitchen.”

A grin played around Rick’s lips.

“No doubt about it, boy. The last sight I want to see in this world or the first one in Heaven is that woman’s face. We might seem a little peppery, but it adds spice to our life. Teasing is just a way of saying ‘I love you.’”

“I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

“You mean your dad didn’t tease your mom?”

“Oh, sometimes. Out in California before he got hurt, he did. But it was so long ago, I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Surely you’ve heard Bertha rib Hal.” Remembering, he laughed and shook his head. “Those two can really mix it up.”

Rick grinned. “I know. Dodie thinks it’s great fun.”

“Glad to see you’re smiling again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in sixty-odd years of living, boy, it’s that a smile will help you get through any trouble, even a fight with someone you like.”

Rick twisted around and stared out the window.

“If it’s any consolation, Hal’s hurting, too.”

“That, I doubt. He’s happy to get rid of me.”

“Life’s tough on all of us, Rick. But most of us can’t afford the luxury of walking around with a chip on our shoulders.”

Rick whirled to face George. “You don’t understand how it was with him….”

“Maybe not. But I’ve got problems you don’t even have to worry about. Some you’ve probably never even heard of. Everybody has problems. You don’t have a monopoly on troubles, so stop acting like you do.”

Rick blinked. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am. If I weren’t, I’d let you wallow in your own self-pity. Okay, maybe things went sour with you and Hal. That’s no reason to give up. Your life’s just beginning, son, not ending. Get out and live. Forget Hal.”

“I, I can’t,” Rick said in misery as he bowed his head.

“That’s what I thought. Sorry I was so rough on you, but I had to know the truth. You’re a tough nut to crack, but Hal’s more bullheaded. At least you’ll talk about it. He won’t. What happened, anyway?”

“We told each other off.”

“Did you feel better afterwards?”

Rick shook his head. “I told him he was a lawman, instead of a person.”

“Sometimes, he is. Don’t you think you and I can see that better than he can? Give him your understanding.”

“That should work both ways.”

“It will, in time.”

“Well, I’m not waiting around for that miracle.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m getting out of this town as soon as I can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I’m leaving, one-way or another. I’m tired of my old man and the county heat leaning on me. I’ve had it with both of them.”

“Is that really wise?”

“I don’t know, George. But I’m tired of getting hurt by them.”

“You shouldn’t build a fence around your feelings.”

“I’m not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have argued with the sheriff last Saturday night.”

“You wouldn’t try that with your father, would you?”

“I’m tired of handling him with kid gloves. I just might tell him off, too, before I leave town.”

“Don’t do that, Rick. Leave home and come over to my place if you want, but don’t talk back to your dad. You might not come out of that argument so lucky. He might hurt you. That’s the difference between him and Hal. Hal might get mad as hell at you, but you’re safe with him. As you pointed out, he’s all cop. He couldn’t break the law himself if he wanted to. He might complain from here to July, but he’d help you, just as he’s already helped you.”

“Yeah, he’s helped, all right. For a while, that policeman was mighty obliging. But, the trouble is, that help went beyond his obligation to the law. We let everything get out of hand and got to liking each other. He didn’t want to, but I know he did. And I began thinking we were real friends. That’s why Saturday night hurt so much. He said some things-- He hurt me, George. That wasn’t a cop talking.”

“You must’ve broken through to the person, then.”

Rick looked startled.

“Kind of proves that Hal’s more than a cop, doesn’t it? Don’t leave town until you’ve both had a chance to cool off.”

“Whether I leave or not, I’m through with all of the Endicotts. Tonight is the last patrol. There’s no reason I should see any of that family again.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Please, George, I don’t want to get mad at you. I need you for a friend.”

“All right, but don’t forget that Hal’s my friend, too. Don’t make me choose between you.”

“Meaning you’d choose him?”

“Meaning I don’t want to choose. I need all the friends I can get, too.”

Rick smiled warmly. “Tell me where your thermos of coffee is, and I’ll pour you a cup.”

“I don’t drink coffee, son,” George said softly. “Hal does.”

Being caught by the old habit flustered Rick, and bittersweet memories of other patrols flooded over him. Fresh pain stung his raw feelings. He hadn’t wanted to remember the good times with Hal, and now here they all emerged again to haunt him with their happiness.

“Want to stop for some coffee, Rick?”

“No, thanks, I don’t drink it, either.”

“Then, why….”

“Just a habit. Just a habit. Just something I used to do on Saturday nights. It doesn’t mean anything. Just something I did for, the, the….”

“Rick, I swear if you and Hal don’t get this mess of yours straightened out….”

“Don’t push it, George! Don’t push it. He and I let things get too personal, and it’ll take a little while to get over. But we will, get, over it.”

“Well, you both seem to agree on that point. I’ve never seen two such stubborn people.” He turned his head. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“There, in the old elevator. I thought I saw a flash. Kids might be in there with matches. They could burn the place down. You stay in the squad. I‘ll check it out.” He parked beside the railroad tracks and crept into the abandoned building.

Rick sat in George’s patrol car and absently watched the elevator. Occasionally, he saw George’s flashlight.

“Mobile One to Mobile Two. Come in, George.”

Rick stared at the radio. He didn’t want to talk to Hal.

“Mobile One to Mobile Two. Where are you, George?”

Rick stared out the window.

“Mobile One to Base. Can you hear me, Helen?”

“Loud and clear, Hal.”

“Good. I thought something was wrong with my radio. Helen, do you know where George is? I’ve been out of the car for awhile.”

“I haven’t heard from him since he called in at seven, Hal.”

“He might’ve gotten out of his car without advising you. Or maybe something’s wrong with his radio.”

“Or maybe something happened to him, Hal. He’s not a young man anymore!”

“Take it easy, Helen.” There was a moment’s silence. “George isn’t by himself tonight.”

“Maybe something happened to both of them!”

Hal didn’t answer at first. And when he did, his voice was unnaturally controlled. “Nothing’s happened. I’ll call them again. If they don’t answer, I’ll go looking for them.”

“Don’t you think they’d answer if they could hear us now?!”

Rick sighed. The situation was turning into a crisis. Excitable Helen was beginning to panic. He’d have to call in.

“This is Mobile Two.”

Nothing but dead air came over the radio.

“Why didn’t you answer Hal?!”

“Take it easy, Helen. I’ll talk to him. Where’s George?”

“He’s in the old elevator. He thought he saw lights.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“He left about a minute before you called.”

“Have him call me when he comes out, okay?”

“Okay. Helen, I’m sorry you got worried.”

Relief was in her voice. “As long as you’re both all right, Rick, that’s the main thing. I didn’t mean to get so excited, but I didn’t want anything to happen to you. Neither did Hal.”

Rick couldn’t answer her. He’d heard the concern in Hal’s voice, too.

Carefully, Rick kept his finger off the mike button. “I’m sorry I scared you, Sheriff,” he said into a microphone that wasn’t transmitting. “I’m sorry about Saturday night, too. I’m sorry about the fight. I’m sorry about everything.”

“Base clear,” Helen said, interrupting an apology that neither she nor Hal could hear.

Rick hung up the mike. Presently, George appeared, empty-handed, at the elevator doorway.

“Must’ve been a reflection. Kids have been in there, though. There’s empty beer cans everywhere.”

“Report in. They want to know what you saw.”

After reporting, George drove down Main Street.

“Pretty quiet out tonight. Won’t be long now before the snows start blowing. If we’re lucky, it won’t begin until January. It’d be nice to have a white Christmas this year, though. Bet it’s been a few years since you’ve seen snow, hasn’t it?”

“The mountains were close to us at San Bernardino. Casey and I even skied a little, at Snow Valley. Once, we went up to Lake Arrowhead, but that was to water ski in August.”

“It’s hard to remember that southern California has mountains. I bet you’re anxious to get your driver’s license back now that your sentence is nearly over.”

Rick shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it much. I won’t have anything to drive but my dad’s old, beat-up Ford.”

“Kids! I sure wouldn’t let that stop me! If I was as good as you are with motors, I’d get an old jalopy and fix it up. Then I’d give it a coat of bright paint and take after the pretty girls. There wouldn’t be anybody who could keep up with me.”

“I’ve done all of that already, George. It seems like a hundred years ago, though.”

“Kid, sometimes I’d like to pick you up by the heels and shake you. Other times, I understand why you feel the way you do. I guess you’re entitled to your opinion, even if it is off-base.”

“Thanks, George.”

“You kids have things too easy nowadays. You should have to work hard like we did, and maybe then you’d appreciate what you’ve got.”

“I suppose now I’m going to hear how you had to walk five miles through snow drifts to school and how you had to milk ten cows morning and night in a drafty shed.”

George scowled at Rick. “If I didn’t see that grin, I’d say you meant that to be, ah-- How does Hal put it? Oh, yeah. Being smart-lipped.”

Rick’s grin disappeared. “Sometimes, what I say just doesn’t come out right. I’m not too good at telling jokes. When they come off okay without anybody getting offended, I don’t know what I did right.”

“Don’t let that discourage you, boy. All you need is practice and more confidence. What you said had a lot of sarcasm in it. Some people think it’s an insult, others say it’s wit. Stick around. I’ll teach you how to be a stand-up comic.”

“I think I’m being conned into staying.”

George grinned. “I’ll show you how wily an old goat can get. Lucy already knows. Might as well learn from the best, son.”

At ten-fifteen, they drove to the police station. Hal’s patrol car stood in front of it.

“I’ll stay out here, George, until you’re finished.”

“You have to face him sooner or later. It might as well be now. Besides,” he said with a wink, “I can referee. Come on in. It’s cold out here.”

From behind his desk, Hal glanced up from his paper work. His eyes quickly slid over George’s and locked with Rick’s. They stared at each other, and then looked away in embarrassment.

Helen left her cubbyhole and threw her arms around George who was mystified by the affectionate greeting.

“George Adams, you old scoundrel! You scared the daylights out of me!”

He frowned at her tears. “Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t call in before you went into that elevator! We thought something bad had happened to you and Rick.”

“Sorry,” he said meekly.

She pushed out of his arms and blew her nose. “Oh, I’m only being foolish again. Lucy said you were getting forgetful. I’d tie a string around your finger, but you’d probably lose that, too.” She socked him in the arm. “Next time, call in!”

He gave her a devilish grin full of affection. “It’s nice to be missed.”

“Oh, you!” She tried to be angry, but gave up and pecked him on the cheek.

They grinned at each other, but sobered when they felt the tension in the room and saw Hal and Rick staring at them. Helen squeezed George’s hand and went quietly back to her cubbyhole.

“Have a chair, Rick,” George invited as he sat down at his desk. “I’ll be only a few minutes.”

The loving scene between Helen and George only highlighted the lack of warmth between Hal and Rick. Both of them noticed it and smarted from it.

Rick could feel Hal’s eyes on him. He knew Hal well enough to know that he’d been brooding for quite awhile and had finally worked himself into a cold fury.

“Why didn’t you answer the radio, Medina?”

Rick shrugged. He could feel Hal’s anger as if it was something physical.

“Why didn’t you answer?!”

“Because I’m not a cop! I wasn’t supposed to use that radio.”

“That never stopped you before!”

“You told me to use it those other times!”

Hal fumed. He couldn’t even accuse Rick of having a smart lip.

Rick found a chair near George and felt Hal glaring at him. George and Helen exchanged meaningful glances.

George cleared his throat. “Sorry I didn’t call in before I got out of the car, Hal.” He hoped to smooth some of the rough edges off the cold war between Hal and Rick. “I wanted to check out the elevator before anyone saw me and got away.”

Hal paid him no attention. His eyes burned at Rick. “You worried the hell out of Helen. And do you know what could’ve happened? We could’ve gotten a manhunt started with folks all stirred up. And for nothing. Just because you wouldn’t move your lazy butt and answer my call.”

Helen blushed. George saw her face redden. Hal never talked that way in front of her. She was used to rough language, but this was different. It seemed so personal, so vulgar. And if it offended Helen, it offended George.

“Hal….”

Hal never heard George. “I’m waiting for an answer!” His eyes never left Rick’s face growing purple with anger. “Well?!”

Rick jumped out of his chair. “I don’t know what in the hell to tell you! I didn’t answer your damned call! So what?!”

Hal’s eyes gleamed in triumph. “There goes that smart lip again.”

Rick exhaled noisily and shook his head. Salt stung his eyes as he tried hard to keep quiet. He looked at Hal as though he didn’t understand why Hal was harassing him.

George glanced at Helen. They both knew Hal had baited Rick into that outburst.

“You better keep your charge under better control, George, or I’ll be forced to lock him up for disorderly conduct.”

With blazing eyes, Rick stormed toward Hal’s desk. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?! Me trapped in this hole and at your mercy! Ha! What mercy?!”

For an instant, Hal cringed against Rick’s onrushing attack. But that fear passed quickly, and he took a great deal of satisfaction in answering. “That’s where you’ve belonged all along, Medina. In jail. You and that drunken father of yours. You’re both jail house scum.” He knew he’d hit a nerve when he mentioned Bert, and he did. Some unknown dread told him he was going too far, but a devil egged him on. He was rewarded by seeing an intense hatred spring into Rick’s eyes and was surprised by his own reaction to that hatred.

Oh, God, no, Rick!

A sudden, aching, chilling regret gripped Hal’s heart. Something thudded in his stomach.

Don’t hate me, son!

Oh, Lord, God, yes! Make him hate me. It can’t be any other way. I know what You want, Lord, but I can’t. I can’t! How could You ask it of me? I can’t love him!

It took an effort, but Hal managed a nonchalant, sardonic smile. “Your type always does wind up behind bars.”

“But not in your jail! Modern lawmen have compassion, but you don’t even know how to spell the word!”

“C-O-M---P-A-S….” Hal started smugly, in his old habit of dividing long words into groups of three letters.

Sound died in Hal’s throat. His eyes widened and his face drained of color. He heard Rick’s sudden intake of breath and saw that innocent, scared, hopeful look spread over the boy’s suddenly pale face. Trapped!

Hal and Rick both blushed. They remembered another spelling session when they’d had fun together.

Rick dropped his eyes and shuffled back to his chair beside George. The room hushed into an unnatural quiet. The atmosphere was too tense for anyone to work.

Finally, Hal screeched back his chair, muttered something about taking one last swing through town, and slammed out of the office.

Rick tore his eyes off the door and moodily slouched in his chair. George couldn’t concentrate on his work. Helen knew she could go home, but she felt compelled to stay. The heart-rending battle she’d witnessed had sickened her, but she felt morbidly drawn by a macabre curiosity to learn what would happen next. Anticlimax wafted through the room.

Rick finally pulled himself out of his chair. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” He shuffled outside.

The room felt normal again.

“Whew!” George let his breath out noisily. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen Hal do. I didn’t know he could treat anybody like that.”

Tears dotted Helen’s eyes. “My God, George, what’s going on?! When did they start acting that way?”

“Oh, they’ve had some kind of little spat. Bertha said it got started over Rick’s mini-bike, and it’s been mushrooming ever since. They keep picking at it and letting it gnaw away at them, just as if they’re happy to encourage trouble. Instead of wanting to get it straightened out, they’d rather devil each other. And it’s affecting them both. You saw how Hal lit into Rick. Has Hal been moody like this all evening?”

“Since nine-thirty. He came tearing in here and started growling about my instant coffee. He’d forgotten his thermos of perked coffee and….”

“And not a team of wild horses could’ve pulled his pride home to get it, I bet. Bertha might’ve ridiculed him. Rick was always the one who remembered the coffee, not Hal.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help them. They’re both miserable.”

“I’ve already tried it. I brought Rick in here with me tonight knowing he’d come face to face with Hal. I thought it might help. You saw the results of my meddling.”

“And their fighting’s so hard on both of them! Rick looks like he’s lost more weight, and he had none to spare the way it was. And besides being irritable, Hal’s neglecting his work. He sat in that chair for forty-five minutes, talking to himself. At first I thought he was talking to me, but it must’ve been about Rick. Hal’s never been one to be lax when it came to his duty to the law.”

“Yes, they’re both taking this fight pretty bad. I guess old habits die hard. Bertha says to let them work it out for themselves. She’s probably right. They’d resent outside interference. They’re both so stubborn.” He breathed deeply. “Well, I better get Rick home. It’s way past ten-thirty. His sentence is over, as of now. He’s a free boy.”

Tears swam in Helen’s eyes. “Is he really, George?”

George sighed. “I guess we both know the answer to that one. At least D.L. Farley’s sentence had a definite ending.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry too much about them, sweetheart. They’ll work it out, if they’re meant to. And if not--”

“I can’t help but worry about them, George.”

“I know you do. And I wouldn’t want you any other way, either. Now, scoot! Before Jim gets worried. See you in church tomorrow. Attending services should give us a little peace.” He frowned. “I hope,” he muttered to himself.


	20. More Trouble

“I’ll get it, Bertha.” Hal pulled himself out of his easy chair and hurried toward the ringing telephone. “No sense you missing the end of the movie when the call’s probably for me, anyway. Hello?”

“Hal, this is George. A carload of kids just careened past my place. By the sounds of the yelling, they’re having one hell of a time.”

“Get after them, George. We’ll round them up!” Hal rammed the receiver back on its hook, struggled into his leather jacket, and crammed his cream-colored Stetson on his head. “I’ll be back!” he yelled to Bertha as he banged out the door and plunged into bitter coldness.

“Where did Uncle Hal go to so fast, Bertha?”

She shrugged. “Some evildoers are out and about, most likely.”

Hal didn’t notice the cold anymore as he zoomed his car down the street and reached for the mike. “Where are they now, George?”

“They’re leading me down Main and headed for the highway,” the radio crackled. “Looks like Jesse Harris driving that souped up Ford of his.”

“I hear your siren. Are they pulling over?”

“Negatory. Lucky thing the street’s deserted. Several gawkers, though.”

“I’ll bisect Main in half a shake. I’ll be coming out at Maple. Watch for my lights.” He hung up the mike and braced for the encounter.

Jesse’s car was half a block away when Hal charged in front of him and blocked his path. Jesse whipped the car to his left, but George pulled up behind him and cut off his escape.

Hal and George jumped out of their cars and ran to Jesse’s vehicle. The flashing lights of the police cars drew a few curious onlookers who kept their distance.

“All right, Jesse, you and your pals can get out now,” Hal ordered. “The game’s over.”

Jesse Harris glared at Hal as he and two male friends crawled out of his Ford.

“Racing on a school night, Jesse?”

Jesse shrugged. “Good a time as any, Sheriff.”

Hal caught the whiff of something pungent. “You got beer on your breath? You’ll have to take a test, Jesse.”

“All right. Whatever you want. But I ain’t drunk, Sheriff. I had only part of a can.”

“Where did you get the booze? What adult got it for you boys?”

“No adult, Sheriff.” He nodded toward his car.

The shadowy backseat hid a fourth person that the law officers hadn’t noticed.

George opened the door. “All right, back there. Time to get out.”

At first, nothing happened. Then the sounds of struggling, low cursing, and general banging around erupted out of the dark shell. After a great deal of thrashing around, a furry-haired boy with lowered head crashed past the car seat. The seat rocketed backwards, and the weaving boy tried to shush it with lips that refused to pucker. Stumbling to keep his balance, he turned with a smirk on his face. Hal and George blinked, and then frowned at each other. Rick Medina was roaring drunk. He grinned, waved, tripped, and nearly fell. George grabbed his arm to steady him.

“Well, if it ain’t the fuzz!” Rick yelled. “Sorry! No beer left for you Sunday school teachers!”

“That’s right,” Jesse confirmed. “He had most of the six-pack gone when he flagged us down. But he piled in, anyway, and dared us to speed.”

Hal gave Jesse a skeptical look. “You wouldn’t be trying to blame your reckless driving on Medina, would you now, Jesse? Nice try. No dice.”

Jesse shrugged. “Never hurts to try.”

Hal’s face was stern as he faced Rick. “What’s your story, Medina?”

Rick gave him a mocking sneer. “Good evening, Sheriff! How’s Beardsley’s finest citizen?”

Hal made frantic motions with his hands. “Pipe down! You’re disturbing the peace with your yelling.”

“Tsk! Tsk! Won’t the ladies be annoyed!”

“You’re drunk,” Hal said with disgust.

Rick threw his arm in the air, whirled as best he could, and gave Hal a joyous smile. “I’m free, man! That’s what I am! I’m free of you! My sentence is over. Isn’t that reason enough to be celebrating? You might want to go on a bender, too. You don’t have to mess with me anymore. That should be the best news you’ve heard in a long, long time.” His face darkened. “You‘re not saddled with me anymore.”

“Where did you get the beer?” Hal asked grimly.

“I stole it from my old man!” Rick answered proudly. “He won’t miss it! He’s already passed out on the couch!” He whirled his cigarette in a wide circle and left a trail of red blaze against the dark night. “Whee! Fireworks! Ain’t they purty?”

“Settle down! And put out that cigarette before you catch something on fire with it. When did you start smoking, anyway?”

“But I wouldn’t start any fires, Sheriff. I’ve been practicing! Watch!” He puffed on the cigarette, exhaled in Hal’s face, and grinned at him.

“That’s nothing to be proud of. Smoking is dirty and dangerous. You don’t want to get hooked on either it or drinking.”

Rick’s amiable mood changed. “I don’t have to do what you say! This ain’t Saturday night!”

“It’s for your own good.”

“I’m tired of you doing your duty, Sheriff! That star doesn’t give you the right to play God! That makes my ass tired!”

Hal seemed unruffled by Rick’s obscene language. “That sounds about as intelligent as something your father would say. What’s with this smoking and drinking and talking dirty? Think those are the marks of a real man? Are you taking after your father now?”

Rick’s eyes blazed. “Leave my old man out of this! He cares what happens to me!”

“Only until you get in his road, and then he’ll get rid of you quick enough.”

“You can’t say that about my father!”

Rick aimed a hay maker at Hal, but Hal blocked it. Hal’s leather coat squeaked as they struggled. As drunk and scrawny as Rick was, he had anger on his side and proved to be strong against Hal.

In the midst of their tussle, Rick accidentally burned Hal’s cheek with the glowing butt of his cigarette. Hal yelped in surprised pain, slapped Rick, and covered the burned spot on his face. When Rick raised his head, Hal slapped him again.

Rick protected the red hand print on his cheek. “You pig! You swine! You dirty dog!” He sprang at Hal.

But Hal was no longer off-guard, or calm. He doubled his fist, struck out, and stopped Rick in mid-lunge. Blood gushed as Rick yelled and shielded his tender nose. Hal grabbed Rick’s collar and drew back to strike again the boy who was offering no resistance, but George clutched his arm.

“Hal, don’t! Don’t hit him anymore. Hal! Don’t. I can’t stop you, Hal. You gotta stop yourself. Remember what‘s important.”

Hal slowly relaxed his fist, and then pushed Rick aside as if he were a flimsy rag sack. “Get him out here, George. Take him to jail.”

“You’re arresting him? For what?”

“For nothing! Let him sleep it off in the drunk tank. Maybe that will make an impression on him. I don’t care what you do with him. Just get him out of my sight.”

George led the blindly groping Rick to his squad and bent his head down so Rick’s nose would stop bleeding.

Hal turned to Jesse and his pals. “You guys aren’t drunk. Go on. Get out of here.”

The three boys were scared and hastily complied. Jesse got a speeding ticket, and the warning was enough. He’d witnessed what would happen to anybody who tangled with Hal Endicott. He and his friends remembered Rick’s warning at the schoolhouse one dark Saturday night several months before. Now they had the proof. Rick hadn’t been exaggerating. The story would be all over Beardsley by tomorrow night. There was bad blood between Hal Endicott and Rick Medina.

Jesse’s Ford crept away from the bloody scene. Hal got in his cruiser without looking back.

 

Hal dragged his feet as he entered the kitchen. Sighing, he dropped into a chair and rumpled his sparse hair as he pulled off his Stetson and let it fall to the table. His fingers hung limply as he stared into space.

Bertha frowned as she set a cup of coffee in front of him. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sadness flowed over his ashen face. “I hit a kid tonight, Bertha,” he answered as if someone were choking him. He held out his right hand with dried blood dappling the knuckles. “With this hand.” He knitted his brows in concentration. His lips worked, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and tried to talk again. “It was Rick.”

Bertha frowned. Long minutes slid by as she stared at him. Hal waited for her chiding tirade and wished for harsh words to lash the guilt he felt. He wanted to argue that his actions were justified, although he knew they weren’t.

But Bertha didn’t lecture him. She refused to be his conscious. And when she did speak, all she asked was, “Why?”

But Hal couldn’t tell her why. He didn’t know himself. Even telling her what happened didn’t help.

“I couldn’t stop myself. He was sassing me and I had to hit him. I think I would’ve hit even if he’d stayed quiet. Just seeing him, drunk and smoking that cigarette, made me mad. I couldn’t stop the boiling in me. I wanted to stomp him. It was wrong, Bertha, so awfully wrong. But I had to hit him.”

“Now, maybe you’ll understand why parents hit their children. It isn’t hatred. It’s something they simply can’t control in themselves.”

Hal flinched. “God, I wanted to kill him out there tonight! I wanted to see him dead. I wanted to roll in his guts. I wanted to smear his blood so thin you couldn’t see it anymore.” He nodded his head wisely. “That’s what I thought I wanted, all right. But when I look at these few spots of his blood….” His hand began to shake. “My God, Bertha, what kind of animal am I? He said I wasn’t any different than his father, and I’m not.”

“Rick shouldn’t have told you that. You’re better than Bert Medina. Don’t think for one minute that you aren’t. Hal, you shouldn’t have fought with Rick tonight, though, or on Saturday night, either. Battering each other with fists or words won’t solve anything.”

“You know, it really didn’t hit me until I was nearly home,” Hal mused. “I was so mad at him, I couldn’t see straight. And then I turned a corner and saw this house all lit up by the streetlight. It looked so homey. I realized then how often he must’ve looked up at it on his way over here. How inviting it must’ve seemed compared to his place. How he must’ve looked forward to being with us. A lot happened to him and me in three months. We shared some bad times, but we worked them out together. And somehow that made everything come out right. I remember feeling good about things back then.” He frowned. “How could I hit him after that?”

“If I could answer that-- But I can’t.”

Hal’s lips trembled. “Know something worse? He believed what I told him. He did things simply because I said they were right to do. Things like studying more and not letting other kids bug him about having to ride with me. That’s why I couldn’t stand to see him drinking and smoking and running with Harris’ crowd. It was like he was telling me that my ideas were all wrong.”

She could see that Hal wanted to believe otherwise. “Not that, Hal. He still knows you’re right.” She wrinkled her brow, not knowing how he’d take what she had to say next. But she’d seen Rick once that Hal didn’t know about, once when Rick hadn’t been belligerent. Even though Hal might get angry, it was time to break her own rule about them and interfere. “I think he’s scared.”

“Scared?!” Hal bristled. “He burned my face with a cigarette! He tried to hit me! If he’s scared, I’m a sandhog!”

“Scared people do foolish things. What you just told me about him sounds nothing like the boy I know. He couldn’t have changed so much in a week’s time.”

“He simply went back to what he was before you met him, that’s all.”

“You think he was acting all this time? All those weeks, he pretended he liked us? If that’s true, he better go to Hollywood. That boy’s got real talent. No, Hal, I think he’s got the biggest broken heart in history.” She saw his snarl of disgust at her sentimental notion. “He’s running scared. Strong people don’t run unless they feel defenseless. Rick needs help, not criticism.”

“You didn’t see him tonight. It would’ve made you sick if you had. You’d changed your opinion of him quick enough then. We’ve wasted our time and worry on him.”

Bertha bit her lips together to stop the words that rushed to her lips. Hal needed her friendship, too. She patted his arm. “Get some rest, Hal. Daylight makes troubles seem smaller. Things will look better tomorrow.” She’d make sure of that.

 

George slammed the cell door shut on Rick. “I doubt if your nose is broken. You wouldn’t be able to touch it like that if it was. Think you need a doctor? I can drive you out to the hospital, if you want to be checked over.”

Rick grabbed the bars to keep from falling and gave George a fish-eyed stare. “No doctor! Only sissies go to hospitals! They won’t let you smoke or drink there!” He grinned like a romping puppy.

“You’re still drunk. Now, do you want a doctor?”

“I want a cigarette!” He tore one out of his pack and lit up with shaky hands.

“The kindest thing I could do is take that away from you, but I think I’ll let you enjoy it, while you can.” George curled his nose. “Smoking on top of drinking and getting hit in the face would make a hog puke. You’re gonna be sick, boy.”

“Like hell!” Rick took a deep drag and patted his mid-section. “Cast iron guts.” He coughed with the next puff.

George grimaced. “You’re green as a goose in May apple time. Want to go to the john?”

“I can take care of myself.”

George shrugged. “Have it your own way. Give me those cigarettes and matches, or I’ll have to come in there and get them.”

Rick dutifully handed them over. “I’ll finish this one.”

George shook his head. “By the way you look, it’s finished you. It’s getting late. Charlie, the night watch, will check in on you. I’ll unlock your cell so you can get to the john. You’ll want to go in there, most likely. If you don’t need anything, I’ll leave.”

“Goodnight, Copper!”

“Surly as hell, aren’t you?” George shook his head and left, turning out the lights as he closed the door connecting the cells with the main office.

But there wasn’t time to get to the bathroom. Rick tossed the cigarette and fell to his knees. He gagged and threw up on the floor. He held his stomach and vomited on his clothing. He retched until his sides ached, but his stomach still rebelled. With a frightened groan, he opened his mouth and green bile spewed out. He moaned and burped and felt utterly miserable. When he could move without the world shifting on its axis, he crawled on his hands and knees to find the cigarette before it started a smudge. He was much too ill to die in a fire tonight. The cigarette was barely alive when he found it and killed it.

Shaking from the retching and the cold, Rick pulled himself onto the cot and rolled up in the wool blanket. If only he had some cool water to rinse out his mouth or another blanket to cover his trembling body-- But he couldn’t move. Finally, he managed to get warm enough to go to sleep. But all night he rolled on the cot as Lori’s taunting laughter echoed through his dreams.

 

“Sweet Edla, what died in here?!”

Rick awoke to George’s shout, blinked, and felt a blinding pain in his head. His stomach wasn’t very seaworthy this morning, either.

“Got sick after all, didn’t you?” George studied the huddled form under the blanket. “Charlie must have no sense of smell if he missed this stench.” He threw open all the windows, letting in frigid morning air.

“Not as cocky this morning, are you?” George swung open the cell door. “Thought I’d better check on you. Good thing, too. Hal would’ve had a fit if he’d found this mess. Now, you go into that john and tend to business. And when you come out, have that bucket you’ll find in there full of hot, sudsy water. You’re going to clean up your own filth. There ain’t nothing as nauseating as washing up soured beer puke.”

Rick scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees. Twice, he paused to gag and belch. The acrid fumes curling into his draining mouth irritated his queasy system. He couldn’t breathe through his aching, swollen nose. The middle of his face vibrated with the festering boil that generally admitted his oxygen. He thought longingly of cool waters and dark, warm places to sleep.

George had left him alone. When Rick finished with the clean up, he took the bucket to the bathroom. He flushed the stinking swill down the stool, then sat down on the commode and leaned his throbbing head against the icy porcelain of the sink. That’s where George found him.

“I wondered where you’d gotten to.” George shook his head at Rick’s rumpled, appalling condition. “Ain’t drinking fun? Come on.” He hauled Rick to his feet.

Rick grabbed George’s arm. His lips were framed in white chalk. “Leave me alone. I’m sick.”

“If I had my way, you’d be a whole lot sicker. But you aren’t my kid, and Hal’s still the sheriff. He won’t let me torture prisoners. He’s got some crazy rule about not hitting kids. Feel lucky. When I caught my Jim with a hangover, I kicked his butt and made him drink more beer and added some whiskey of my own. I poured it down him. I knew I couldn’t really hurt him. He’d pass out before he’d die. But I wanted him to feel like he was dying. Lucy left the house. She couldn’t watch. I came close to killing our boy before I got that raw egg white down his throat. He had diarrhea for days and couldn’t keep anything in his stomach for a week. But he hasn’t taken a drink since.”

George‘s story had Rick looking horrified. “No wonder.”

George draped Rick’s coat around his shoulders. “This isn’t warm enough for someone in your condition. Here’s a blanket. A clean one.”

George’s sturdy arm around his shoulders felt good, and Rick leaned against him as George led him from the jail.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

Rick blanched. “I can’t go back there! My dad will skin me alive for taking his beer.”

“We’re going to my place and getting you cleaned up. The jail’s too cold and smelly for you to stay there. You’ve got the shakes pretty bad.”

Rick crawled in George’s old car and huddled in the wool blanket.

“Warm enough?”

Rick nodded and gradually thawed, courtesy of the car’s heater.

“Who is Edla?”

“Who?”

“Edla. When you woke me up, you said, ‘Sweet Edla, what died in here?!’”

George grinned. “Oh, that Edla. She’s a second cousin of mine on my father’s side. Never did like that woman. She was always such a good example to us sinners. Never got her white Sunday clothes dirty. Always knew her Sunday school lesson. And never let anybody forget it. She’ll be first in line to welcome Jesus back, if she has her way about it, and she probably will. She makes a great curse.” George winked. “Lucy doesn’t approve of me taking the Lord’s name in vain, but she has no objection to me using Edla’s name. Besides, she doesn’t like Edla, either. It’s difficult for anyone to live up to all that holiness, and Lucy’s too peppery to try.” He noted Rick’s ashen face. “Is the fresh air making you feel any better?”

“Some.” Apprehension mirrored in his eyes. “You won’t pour any beer and whiskey down me, will you?”

George’s face sobered into grimness. “Don’t tempt me! I feel like blistering your butt.”

“My dad’s already tried that. Remember?”

George frowned. “How could I forget? That promise you forced out of me and Doc Murphy has wrangled me ever since. I never know when we’re going to find you beaten to death.”

“You haven’t told him, have you?”

“You mean Hal? No. I promised, didn’t I? Have you ever considered what position that puts me and Doc in?”

“Sorry,” Rick murmured with downcast eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you! You’re not a defenseless victim. Your dad didn’t force you to steal that beer or climb into Jesse Harris’ car last night. You did that on your own, just like the night you took Lori Endicott out joy riding and got her killed. Maybe your dad was right to give you a spanking that night. He was trying to correct you. But he got carried away, like I did when I force fed Jim that whiskey and beer. Being a father can be exasperating at times.”

“Are you against me now, George?”

“Let’s say I’m more immune to you. I saw what you did to Hal last night. I saw what you forced him to do to you. It wasn’t a very pretty sight.”

Rick sighed and studied the floor.

“You did all that to get Hal’s attention, didn’t you? But it backfired. You didn’t really mean to hit him, did you?”

“If I could’ve landed the right punch, and I was trying, I would’ve killed him.”

Horror and rage gripped George’s bowels. “What kind of stupid nonsense are you trying to feed me now?! You know that if Hal was lying dead on a slab right now, you’d feel just as bad about it as the rest of us! Maybe even worse! And don’t try to tell me any different.”

Rick looked sheepish, then determined. “I meant it last night, though. I hated him that much in that moment.”

“And now?”

“There’s nothing, George. Just numbness. A blessed numbness. And that’s the way I want it to stay.”

George frowned. “Sounds more like being dead to me.”

“It’s better than anger. I don’t feel trapped or lost, anymore.”

“You don’t feel anything, anymore, boy. And that’s a pity. You’re cheating yourself out of living.” George pulled into his driveway. “Lucy isn’t here. I called and asked her to go over to Helen’s.”

Rick panicked. Lucy hadn’t been here when George half-killed Jim, either.

George chuckled softly. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, son. I sent Lucy away so you could get some rest. Otherwise, she’d mother you to death.”

George led Rick through the cluttered living room and up a narrow stairway into a small, cozy bedroom.

“The bathroom’s next door. Get cleaned up.”’

After Rick showered and had changed into faded flannel pajamas with the softness of age about them, he crawled into a scarred Jenny Lind bed piled high with homemade quilts.

“This room belonged to Jim and his brother,” George explained as he pulled the covers up on Rick. “Seems real natural to have a boy in here again.”

“I didn’t know Jim had a brother.”

“Larry.” George frowned. “Died when he was a week shy of his ninth birthday. Spinal meningitis. Got it from a stray cat.”

“I, I’m sorry, George.”

George fussed with the covers. “It was a long time ago. We got the future to worry about, now. I’m going to fix you some toast and tea and bring it up to you.”

“I couldn’t eat.”

“You will eat, boy! You’re the future.”

Rick stared at the proud, determined , little man. “Thanks for helping me, George.”

“Darn it, Rick! I want to stay your friend. But last night was damnation hard on me. If I hadn’t been so shocked, I could’ve cried for both of you.”

“I know. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.”

“It’s the price of friendship.” He sniffed as he fussed with the covers. “Darn it! Last time I cried like this was when Larry died. I felt helpless then, too.”

After George went downstairs, Rick stared at the ceiling and thought about the bandy-legged, little man with the big heart. Rick had never really considered how his quarrel with Hal affected other people. Luckily, the Endicotts should be forgetting that problem. Rick didn’t want them to suffer because of him.

After eating, Rick snuggled into the quilts and slept until noon when George fed him tomato soup and crackers.

“I called your father to let him know where you were. He wanted to know why you didn’t clobber the fuzz when you had the chance.”

It’d been funny if George hadn’t looked so disgusted.

“I called the high school, too, to tell them where you were. You miss a lot of school, don’t you?”

“I don’t play hooky.”

“I know. You’re generally busted up, like now. And Hal or your dad is generally the cause. All along, I thought maybe you were just accident prone. But it seems more like you have a knack of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I always have been that way. Whenever the class bully decided to pound someone, guess who had the good luck to cross his path. Or guess who was playing outfield, got blinded by the sun, and didn’t know where the baseball was until it hit him. I have no idea how many times I’ve been clobbered that way. My head feels like a bumpy road.”

George wrinkled his brow and grinned in sympathy. “You sure are a victim of bad timing, all right.”

“Guess I’ll just have to take my lumps and bumps and keep my mom’s pancake makeup handy. It’ll cover this red nose so nobody can hardly see it.”

“And you didn’t get any black eye from it, either. You know, you really deserved that punch. You were being unruly, and Hal could haul you into court on any number of charges: possession of an alcoholic substance, providing minors with an alcoholic substance, resisting a peace officer. And that’s just for starters. But I think Hal could be persuaded to forget the whole incident.”

Rick looked startled. “You do?”

‘He knows you don’t need anymore trouble right now. Besides, he could get into a real mess over hitting you, too. Some might even call it police brutality. The wrong newspapers could have a field day with it. The next election might give us a different sheriff. Hal could be ruined. As annoyed as you are with him, I don’t think you want to see him destroyed that way. Your fight last night was something personal between the two of you. It didn’t really involve the law. But Hal’s a lawman, and lawmen aren’t supposed to have personal feelings. Besides that, it was a matter of pride with him that he didn’t hit kids. He never understood people who did, and he had no pity for them. But last night he whopped you, and I expect he’s grieving about it right now. You and I both know that it’s more than breaking a principle that’s bothering him, too. It was you he hit. And you might not think that makes a difference to him, but it does. That’s why I’m asking you not to push this thing. Besides, it’s to your benefit. He could throw all those charges at you. But, he might be persuaded to forget them.”

“You keep saying that.” Rick grinned. “How long did it take you to figure that all out?”

George exhaled in relief. “I had the morning to myself. I had to fill the hours up somehow.”

“Some old-fashioned wheeling-and-dealing, huh? Are you offering him the same deal?”

“That’s where I’m headed after lunch. He’s probably ready to listen by now. Lucy’s back. She’s downstairs if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers. Are you doing anything illegal with this deal?”

George winked. “Just saving the court a lot of paperwork. You rest now. Pretty soon, I’ll take you back home. Your dad called a while ago and he was laughing. He almost sounded proud of you swiping that beer. So, I guess it’s safe to turn him loose on you.”

“Don’t look so worried, George. I’ll be all right. Haven’t you heard? I’m a survivor.”

“I hope you’re right, boy. But you do have a natural talent for attracting trouble. Just don’t go pressing your luck with your old man.”

“I don’t care anymore, George. I just want out. One way or another, I’m getting out of this mess.”

George wrinkled his brow. “Promise you’ll be careful? If only to humor an old man?”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“I’m not sure I like that answer. But it sure sounds like I’m not going to hear any other.”

“That’s right.”

George slapped his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, you’re not getting any rest with me up here. I’ll pick you up after I see Hal.”

“Remember your promise? About not telling?”

“How could I forget?” George growled. “It’ll probably be the first thing Saint Peter questions me about on my way through the Pearly Gates.”

 

Rick turned the fire off under the frying hamburgers and rushed into the living room to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Rick? This is Bertha. I tried to call you earlier, but nobody must’ve been home.”

“I was over to George’s. I spent the day there.”

“I heard what happened last night.”

Rick flinched. “I figured you would.”

“It’s wrong what happened.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Hal felt pretty bad last night. He’s still upset.”

Rick didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t.

“I suppose George told you that Hal agreed not to press charges if you didn’t.”

“He mentioned it when he drove me home.”

“How’s the nose? Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Darn! That ‘ma’am’ had slipped out.

“Don’t let this battling go any further, Rick. It’s not good for either of you.”

“I’m going to protect myself, Bertha. And I’m going to fight, the only way I know how.”

“You don’t have to fight Hal.”

“I tried, Bertha. All those weeks with him, I really tried. But now, he has more than one reason to hate me.”

“Try harder! You need to get this straightened out with Hal. Talk to him. Don’t depend on a third person helping. This should only be settled by the two of you.”

“Why can’t he make the first move? I’ve always had to.”

“That’s why you have to do it again. Hal’s so stubborn.”

“And you think I’m not?!”

“Oh, I know better. We’ve all had ample proof of that lately. And your thinking hasn’t been too straight, either. How come you pulled that crazy stunt last night? Did you think Judge Farley would stick you back in Hal’s car?”

Rick bristled. Was his real motive that easily understood?

“Did he put you up to calling?! Or are you just being the angel of mercy on your own?”

“You don’t need to have a chip on your shoulder with me, young man. After all, you’re the one that let this whole mess get out of hand. It would’ve all blown over in time if you’d eased your way back into Hal’s good graces. That’s what you did once before. Hal’s so good-natured, it didn’t take you long to get on his friendly side.”

“If you mean how he gradually got to liking me, I didn’t plan that.”

“Oh, didn’t you? At first, I thought you just wanted him to be beholding to you so he wouldn’t hassle you when you were riding with him. But now I’m thinking you wanted him to like you. And now you’re using it to hurt him. You do the same thing to your father, don’t you? You couldn’t get by with that if they didn’t like you, and you know it. What gives you the right to torture them that way? No wonder you frustrate them. I’m getting pretty frustrated with you myself….”

“Then leave me alone!”

Rick slammed the receiver. Now, he’d successfully fought with all of them.

 

The next morning, Rick knew he was the topic of conversation at school. He could hear the whispers and see the glances in his direction as he dug books out of his locker. Jesse Harris and his two friends had done their jobs well. The news about Rick and Hal’s fight was all over the school.

Someone stopped behind Rick. “You okay, Medina?”

Rick faced Jesse Harris. “Yeah.”

Jesse’s eyes flicked over Rick’s nose. “You look okay. Guess you’ve had lots of practice hiding your bruises.”

Rick slammed his locker door. “The sheriff never hit me before the other night. At least, not in anger. I wish you’d spread that story around, too.”

“I meant your old man beats you up.”

“Leave him out of this,” Rick growled.

“Sure thing. I don’t want any cigarette burns on my cheek. You play pretty rough, Ricky, boy.”

Rick glared at him. “That was an accident.”

“Whatever you say. I’m not arguing with you, or Sheriff Endicott. I wouldn’t have a chance with either of you.” He changed the subject before Rick could voice his protest. “Listen, I just wanted to thank you for taking all the heat the other night. I’m already on probation. I don’t need anymore trouble from the law.”

“Don’t count on my help again. I don’t need another punch in the nose, either.”

Jesse grinned. “You’re okay, Rick.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m odd, or haven’t you heard?”

“Still got that high-and-mighty chip on your shoulder, don’t you? I was about to invite you to go with us to the basketball game at Emmetsburg Friday night, but we’re probably not good enough to be seen with you. I don‘t know why you think you’re better than us, anyway. We’re all from the wrong side of the tracks.” He walked away, leaving Rick bristling.

“Rick?”

Rick whirled on Chris Butler.

“I expect you want to see my nose, too! Well, look! What do you see? Swelling? A bruise? Satisfied?”

“That’s not what I’m after, Rick.”

“Gory details, then? How about blood dripping off my chin? Gory enough for you?”

Chris winced. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but….”

“How about snotting and spitting and nothing helping?!”

“I don’t care about your damned nose! But if you don’t shut up and listen to me for a minute, I’ll hit it again for you!”

Rick cooled. “What’s wrong?”

“Gwen.”

Rick lowered his eyes, remembering how he’d punished Gwen for her concern.

“What did you do to her?” Chris demanded. “She cries all the time. She won’t talk about it, but I know it involves you.”

“I guess she’s sad that I don’t come around anymore, Chris. We were pretty close for a while. I miss her, and I expect she misses me, too.”

Chris seemed skeptical, but accepted Rick’s explanation and left. He didn’t suspect that Gwen’s real sadness lay in Rick’s humiliating kiss.

Someone else tried to catch Rick’s eye, and he saw Joe Pallack waving at him across the hall.

“Better watch it, Joe. Your friends won’t like it if you’re seen talking to me.”

“Let them!” Joe said with a grin.

“I expect you want to look at my nose, too.”

“I heard about that. Tough. I bet Hal Endicott can really hit when he wants to. No, I wanted to ask you for a favor, Rick.”

“So that explains why you’re so friendly.”

Joe overlooked the sarcasm. “My dad’s new car is acting up again. I told Dad that you were a pretty good mechanic. I DIDN’T mention that you’d fixed it once before. Would you look at it when you get a chance? Like this afternoon? We’d pay. Not as much as Dave gets down at the garage, but we’ll pay good.”

Here was a chance at some traveling money! But Rick didn’t want to seem too anxious, or he’d get underpaid. He shrugged. “Sure, Joe. I guess I got the time to take a look after school.”

“Great!” Joe slapped Rick’s shoulder. “Thanks a lot, Rick. You’re a good friend.”

But Rick knew the arrangement had nothing to do with friendship. Pallacks could save money by hiring Rick, and he could earn some. The relationship was purely financial. How surprised he’d be when Mrs. Pallack invited him to dinner that evening.

Out of the sea of curious faces at school, the only other one that caught Rick’s attention was Gwen’s. But she gave him a hurt, confused look and turned away without speaking to him.

If Rick could only make it through this day of facing curious people, most of the gossip would die down. By tomorrow, there would be something new to talk about. The only ones still concerned would be the principals: the Adamses, the Endicotts, and the Medinas.

 

“Afternoon, Hal.”

Hal looked up from the reports on his desk. “George? Didn’t expect to see you down at the office on a day as nice as this. Thought you’d be out pheasant hunting.”

“I have to talk to you, Hal.”

Hal tossed aside his pen. “You look worried. What’s wrong?”

“Rick Medina. That’s what’s wrong.”

Hal went back to his papers. “We’re through with him, George, as of last Saturday night. I would’ve thought you’d gotten your fill of him the last few days, too. If that’s the only matter you have to discuss, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a report that I want to get finished.”

“Wait! He said something about, about settling up with his father.”

“So? Let him settle. It’s none of our business.”

“It might get to be police business, though, if Medina beats him up.”

Hal remembered bruises on Rick the evening of their argument about Lori. He’d never talked to Bert Medina about the marks.

George rubbed his forehead with shaking fingers. “I’m about to betray a confidence, and I feel like a heel. But if I don’t, the consequences might be terrible.”

Hal frowned. “What are you driving at?”

“I promised not to tell, but Bert might go wild again.”

“Again?”

George wouldn’t meet Hal’s eyes.

“George, if you know something I should know about the Medinas, you better be spitting it out.”

“Rick’s been hurt bad before, Hal, real bad. The night Lori got killed, Bert worked him over pretty good. Medina used a leather belt. I saw the evidence.”

A thrill of horror played along Hal’s spine. “A belt? You mean….”

“Rick’s backside was all cut up and black and blue. He could barely sit down.”

Hal felt ill. “My God, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Rick got me and Doc Murphy to promise we wouldn’t. Besides, it was the day of Lori’s funeral. We didn’t want to bother you.”

Hal made a choking sound. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t care how many fights we have, I’ll still protect him. That’s my job. You should’ve known that.”

“Nobody’s that dedicated, Hal. You’re only human. And you’re fooling yourself if you think any different. But nobody holds that against you. I expect Rick won’t think much of me for telling, though. I would’ve kept my promise to him, but he’s been acting reckless lately. He doesn’t seem to care if he fights with Bert or not. In fact, I think he’s been starting some of the trouble, like he did the other night with you. He isn’t thinking straight. If Rick sasses Bert at the wrong time, he might get hurt bad again. I worried about it all day yesterday. Lucy thought I should tell you, in spite of my promise. I’m just plain scared of what could happen to that boy, Hal.”

Hal wearily pulled himself out of his chair. “All right. I’ll go over and talk to Bert.”

“Will you talk to Rick, too? Try to get him to calm down?”

“No. I guess I can’t be as impersonal as I thought. There’s bad blood between us. Is that human enough for you?”

 

Bert’s insolent attitude angered Hal. “I want some straight answers, Medina.”

“I don’t know how those marks got on the kid, Sheriff. That’s been a couple of weeks back. I can’t keep track of him. Maybe he got clumsy and fell.”

“Listen here, Medina. I’ve been around your son long enough to know that he isn’t clumsy. A little unlucky, maybe, but not clumsy. And if he gets anymore ‘unexplained’ cuts and bruises on him, I’m coming looking for you. I know about the beating you gave him when my daughter died.”

Bert blinked. “Did he….”

“No, he didn’t tell me. I only recently did learn of it, and not from him. So don’t blame him. In fact, you better keep him healthy. The court says I’m still his guardian. I’ll take him away from you.”

“And do what with him, Sheriff? Seems you can mark him up pretty good yourself. I saw him before he got his ma’s makeup on that nose. You’ve got quite a temper. I bet you’ve wanted to take a belt to him more than once yourself. How would his backside look when you got through with him?”

Hal reddened. “I’d never hurt him that way!”

“But you’ve wanted to. You had reason to kill him, but you’d rather torture him, wouldn’t you? And you have. Taking him into your home and making him feel like he was something special, then pitching him out in the cold like an old shoe you don’t want around anymore. That kind of wound leaves scars that eyes can’t see. But they’re still there, inside, eating away. And the poor kid never knew when to expect it. At least he knows how he stands with me.”

Hal grabbed his gun belt and gave Bert a menacing look. “Just keep your hands off him. If he gets hurt again, you’ll answer to me.”

Bert watched Hal walk toward his patrol car. “Says you, Bull,” he muttered.

Bert stumbled into his house and picked up his whiskey bottle. Damn that kid! He’d been bellyaching to the law again. Wait until he got home from school.

 

Rick passed his father lying on the couch and didn’t even glance in his direction. Two minutes later, he was back with flashing eyes and nudged Bert.

“Where’s my money?! Hey, you old sot! Wake up!” He gave Bert a good shove. “Where’s my money?!”

Bert blinked. “Huh? What?” He dug his knuckles into his eyes. “What’s biting your ass?”

“My money! You took it out of my desk! Where is it?”

Bert pulled himself into a sitting position and sleepily hung his head. “Oh, that money. Yeah, I took it. That’ll teach you to hold out on your old man.”

Rick’s face contorted into ugliness. “I earned that money working on a car! You had no right to take it. You never took anything from me before. Why now?”

“I had something taken from me, that’s why,” Bert muttered.

“That beer the other night?”

“No.”

Rick ignored the answer. “What did you do with my money?”

Hal smirked. “You’ll be proud to know that you set up drinks in the finest style at the Lucky Lady this afternoon.”

“You bought booze for a bunch of drunks?! How could you?! I needed that money!”

“So did I, boy. Now, shut up and let me sleep.” He curled up on the couch again.

“I should have you arrested for stealing!”

When Rick mentioned the law, Bert remembered Hal’s visit. It was while Bert was waiting for Rick to get home that he’d jealously searched Rick’s room for evidence of Hal’s influence and accidentally found the few dollars in the desk.

Bert struggled into a sitting position while Rick paced out his fury.

“Your friend, the Sheriff was here today.”

Rick stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Bert pulled himself off the sofa. He felt his strength returning. He hadn’t done that much beer drinking in the tavern, because he’d been imbibing whiskey earlier. Now, he remembered his anger against Rick.

“Endicott wanted to know how you got all bruised up a couple of weeks back. How come you ran your mouth off to him, anyway?”

“I didn’t! He saw the bruises and figured out the rest for himself. He’s not stupid, you know.”

“Great champion you’ve got there. Him coming over here and telling your own father off.”

“He was only doing his job,” Rick muttered. “That’s all I mean to him.”

Bert laughed. “You mean, after all your playing up to him, all you get is the dedicated lawman bit?! Boy, that shows how worthless he thinks you are.”

Bert’s laughter ruffled Rick. “Shut up! Don’t make fun of me.”

Bert wiped away happy tears. “But, oh, son, it’s so easy to do. Don’t you know what a pair of losers we are? Nobody wants anything to do with us. If we can get money out of those ten-cent Christians, great. But don’t expect them to respect you or like you, like you‘re equals or something. Because they won’t. They’d rather make a fool out of you. Even that humorless sheriff can get your goat.”

“Don’t talk about him that way. You don’t know anything about the way he acts. He’s a good man.”

Bert’s smile died. “Meaning I’m not?”

“What do you think? How would you rate yourself up against Hal Endicott?”

Bert glared. “Apparently better than you do. I thought you two had a fight. Sounds like you’re trying to get back next to him again.”

Rick turned away. “I can’t. He won’t let me.”

Bert frowned. “Meaning you’d like to? Is that it? You’d still rather be with him than with me?!”

Rick whirled with fury on his face. “Yes! Oh, yes,” he answered with pleasure. “I want to be with him. I wish he was my father instead of you!”

Bert’s face changed from red to white to scowling black. “Oh, you do, do you?!” He grabbed Rick’s shirt. “I’ll show you what that will get you!” He slapped Rick across the face.

Rick touched his cheek, glared at Bert, and aimed a fist at Bert’s jaw. Bert blocked the blow, but was so angered that he doubled his own fist and caught Rick on the right eyebrow. With a yelp, Rick covered his protesting eye with his hand. Bert landed a second punch under Rick’s left eye. Rick held his head in his hands and, blinded, tried to duck more blows. An uppercut straightened him up. A sledgehammer plowed into his ribs. And then another. And another. It was almost too easy for Bert.

Rick fell to the floor. He struggled to rise, and Bert hauled him to his feet. Bert hit Rick some more. Rick fell again. Bert pulled the weakening boy to his feet again.

The last time Rick hit the floor, he didn’t move. His head had struck the hard edge of the television. Broken for weeks, the set had finally served a purpose.

Bert nudged Rick’s leg with his toe. “Kid?”

Rick’s leg flopped limply.

Rick lay so quietly. His eyes were blackening, and air wheezed through his open mouth. Blood poured from a dozen wounds. At least he wasn’t dead.

“Rick?” Bert pushed a broken wooden chair out of the way and kicked aside a crumpled newspaper. Sanity momentarily returned to him, and he knelt. With folded hands, he solemnly studied his battered son.

Rick slowly opened hazy eyes that showed him two of his father. “Dad,” he whispered hoarsely. “Help. Me. I’m. Hurt.”

Sadness crossed Bert’s face. “That sheriff did this to us, son. He made me hurt you.”

“No….”

“I’ll make him pay.”

Rick rallied. “No! Please. Don’t, hurt him.”

“It’s still him, huh? All right, I’ll leave him alone. As a special favor to you.”

Rick relaxed.

“He can have you. You deserve each other. I’m leaving.”

“No! You, can’t. Don’t, leave me, like this.” A tremor shook Rick. “Help. Me.” He expelled his breath, and his eyes closed part way.

Bert saw the change. He knew that Rick was dead.

“Go be with Grandpa Wakely now. He’ll take real good care of you. He’ll introduce you around. Take you to all the pretty places in Heaven.” 

Bert rocked on his heels. “What a pretty baby you were,” he said fondly. “You still are. You should’ve been a girl. That’s what everybody said, even your mother. But you were a boy, my boy, and I was going to make sure you grew into a man.” 

Bert hummed a few snatches of a lullaby. His fingers trembled as he touched a spot free of blood on Rick’s once silken cheek.

“I love you, honey. Never forget that. Daddy loves his little man.”


	21. Rick

The next afternoon, Hal sought out Gwen. She, Dodie, and Randy were helping Bertha make cookies when Hal came in for a cup of coffee. Eventually, he set down his cup, caught Gwen’s eye, and nodded toward the swinging door. Puzzled, Gwen followed him into the living room.

“I didn’t want the kids to hear,” he said.

His worried face alarmed her. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she wiped her hands on her checkered apron.

“Have you seen Medina around?”

“Rick? Why, ah, no, I haven’t. Why?”

“The school called. He was absent again today. Nobody’s seen him, and nobody answers the phone at his house.”

“Do you think something’s happened to him?”

“I’m going to check right now. I thought you’d like to go along.”

“Me? Why me?”

“He’s not mad at you. Even George and Bertha might not be too welcome over there right now. I know that Medina wouldn’t like it if I came around, so you may have more luck than anybody in talking to him.”

Hal had no idea that Gwen might be unwilling to face Rick, either. But concern for him overpowered her shame of his humiliating kiss. She threw her apron on the piano bench and grabbed her car coat.

“Uncle Hal, Rick said something about leaving town the first chance he got.”

“George mentioned that, too. Maybe that’s what’s happened. But why didn’t Bert answer the phone?”

 

Hal rapped on Medina’s front door, but nobody answered. “This is Sheriff Endicott! I’m coming in!” The door swung open, revealing a quiet, shadowy interior. “Medina! Rick Medina!” Hal listened, but got no answer. “Stay behind me, Gwen. Old man Medina might be in here, drunk.”

Hal and Gwen crept into the living room. Hal flicked on the dim overhead light, and they both gasped. Broken furniture and torn papers lay scattered everywhere.

“My God, what happened here? Medina! Are you in here?! Rick! Where the hell are you, kid?! Rick!”

A soft groan answered him.

Gwen spotted a figure sprawled on the sofa. “Rick!” She rushed to his side, bent, and patted his cheek. “Rick, Rick, wake up!”

Rick moaned and rolled his head away from her hand.

“Don’t make him move, honey,” Hal said softly at her elbow. “He’s hurt real bad.”

Then Gwen saw the cuts and bruises on Rick’s pasty, pale face and cried out. Crusted, dried blood flowed down his ashen cheeks. Both eyes were swollen nearly shut and darkened. His breath came in short gasps. And he stunk from the dried remains of his own vomit.

“Don’t lean on him, Gwen. By the way he’s breathing, he’s probably got broken ribs. Looks like he’s got head injuries, too.”

Rick’s mangled condition terrified Gwen. “No!”

“Gwen, get a hold of yourself. Go find a blanket. Go on now. Let me see what I can do for him.”

Gwen scurried away.

Hal carefully lifted Rick and shoved a pillow under his shoulders and head. Reaching up, he pulled the remnants of an old Indian blanket off the back of the sofa and covered him. He felt so cold.

Gingerly, Hal leaned against Rick so that his body heat could warm Rick’s chilled arms and chest. “I’m here, son,” he whispered and gave into the fear that shook him.

After the wave of emotion swept over him, Hal broke the embrace. He listened to Rick’s shallow breathing through parted lips, then touched his face drawn in pain. The pale skin felt cold and clammy, too.

Hal scowled. “Rick? Can you hear me? What in the hell happened to you, boy?” he mumbled.

“Don’t hit me,” Rick babbled. Please. No more.”

“Who did it, Rick? Who hit you? Your old man?”

Rick’s searching fingers reached for Hal’s voice, and Hal caught the hand.

“Help me.”

“I’m here. What happened, son?”

“—hit me….”

“I know. But, who? Who?”

But Rick wasn’t answering any more questions. His hand weakened, and Hal allowed it to slip to Rick’s chest.

Hal frowned as he gazed at the battered face. Gently, he brushed hair off Rick’s forehead. “Rick?” he whispered. “I’m scared. I’m scared real bad for you, boy. For God’s sake, don’t be hurt as bad as you look.”

“Here’s a blanket off one of the beds. It’s threadbare, but it’s all I could find.”

“It’ll have to do.” Hal draped the tattered blanket over Rick. “Cover his feet. You’re supposed to do this right after someone gets hurt to prevent shock. So, I expect if shock was going to hurt him very much, it’s done it by now.”

“Shock can kill, can’t it?”

Hal avoided her frightened face. “Don’t think about that! He’s still alive, but we’re going to have to work fast if we want to keep him that way. I’m going to radio for an ambulance now. Talk to him and let him know he’s got help.”

If Gwen wouldn’t have been so upset, she would’ve wondered why Hal didn’t use Medina’s phone. Hal simply needed a moment outside to fight down a rising nausea.

When Hal returned, Gwen was softly crying.

“How is he?”

“He, he opened his eyes once and looked at me, but I don’t think he knew me. He moved his arm and acted like he wanted to give me something. I think he said ‘please.’ Then he passed out again.”

“Looks like he’s got something in his left fist. A piece of paper. He’s sure got a clinch on it. There! Got it! He wasn‘t giving this up easy.” His lips tightened as he studied the scrap.

“What is it, Uncle Hal? What’s on the paper?”

Hal stared at the unconscious boy. “Our telephone number.” He wadded up the paper and threw it away. “He was trying to get help.”

“But why didn’t he call us? The phone is right beside the couch.”

Hal didn’t answer, but he knew why. He’d ordered Rick to leave the Endicotts alone.

“Who would do a thing like this, Uncle Hal? Who’d hurt him so badly?”

“Bert Medina. Probably on a drunk. Tore up the house and beat up Rick. Hard telling how long the kid’s lain here. Maybe as long as twenty-four hours. This might’ve happened when Rick got home from school yesterday.”

“But Rick knew how to handle his father when he’d been drinking. I wonder where Rick made his mistake?”

Hal knew the answer to that one, too. Rick had asked him not to question Medina about the marks on his face. But Hal had talked to Medina, anyway. And now Hal could see the results of that discussion. Rick had had to endure a severe beating. It was Hal’s fault that Rick was injured.

Hal listened to Rick’s labored breathing and tucked the blanket carefully around his shoulders. “Hang on, kid.”

“I wish he knew we were here,” Gwen said.

“Yeah,” Hal mumbled. He stood by the couch a moment longer, then opened the door for the ambulance attendants.

 

Gwen huddled in the hospital waiting room and anxiously awaited Hal’s return. When she saw her tired looking uncle shuffle into the room, she sat up with interest.

“How is Rick?”

Hal dropped heavily into the chair beside her and wiped a hand across his weary face. “Doc Murphy’s patching up his head now. They let me stay in there in case he woke up and could tell us what happened, but I couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing all that gauze and tape wound around him made him look like a mummy they were getting ready to bury.” He shook his head to clear it. “Luckily, his nose wasn’t injured again.” He smiled thinly. “With those two black eyes, though, he’s going to look like a raccoon for a few days.”

Gwen let out her breath in relief. “Then he’s okay.”

Hal’s face darkened. “He’s got three broken ribs. One of them might’ve punctured a lung. He could go into pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia?!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s skinny as hell. I watched the nurse cut off his clothes. Bones are sticking out everywhere. The doc thinks he's suffering from malnutrition.” Hal shook his head again. “He looks like he’s been through a wreck. Black and blue marks are everywhere. Torn skin. It’d make a sidewalk cry.”

Gwen choked back her tears and finally dared to ask, “How about his head? He hit something awfully hard.”

“He’s got a concussion.” He heard her gasp. “We don’t know how bad until he wakes up.”

“A concussion! Poor Rick! He’s hurt so badly.”

Hal slid his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, honey. He’s not hurt all that bad, just looks it. The odds are in his favor, too. He’s young and strong. He’ll snap out of it quick.”

“But he’s lain there, sick and hurt, for hours! And he’s not that strong! You saw how thin he looks. He’s probably not eaten anything wholesome since he left our place.”

“He ate Thanksgiving dinner with George and Lucy. Outside of that, I don’t know.”

“Then there’ve been a lot of good meals he’s missed. Besides, he won’t fight to live. He thinks nobody likes him.”

Hal hugged her. “We’ll just have to change his mind about that, honey.”

“We?”

The sheriff straightened. “I meant, you. You’ll have to show him you’re his friend.”

“You wouldn’t mind? If Rick and I were friends?”

“No,” he answered softly. “He needs someone.”

“But, Lori….”

“Lori’s gone. We can’t help her anymore. But we can help him.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Finding him all busted up. Nobody deserves to suffer like that. And he wouldn’t have if he’d felt freer to call for our help.” Hal stood. “You stay with him.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find that miserable excuse for a father of his. I want to know why he half-killed his own son.”

Hours later, Hal returned.

“Did you find Bert Medina?”

“He seems to have skipped town. How’s Rick?”

“No change.”

“He hasn’t woke up yet?”

Gwen shook her head.

“We might as well go on home then.”

“But we can’t leave him!”

“Just for awhile. It’s past midnight. We haven’t had any supper, and you need to get to bed. You look half-asleep now. George and Lucy are coming over. They’ll call if there’s any change. Gwen, you need to get some rest if you want to be here when he does wake up.”

Gwen saw how tired her uncle looked. “Okay.”

 

Early the next morning, Gwen found Hal sitting in the hospital waiting room. He hunched on the edge of the couch with his fingers knitted together and stared into nothingness. He saw neither her nor anyone else who passed.

She touched his shoulder. “Uncle Hal, it’s late.”

Hal looked up, startled. “Gwen! I’m sorry, honey. I’ll take you home. You must be tired.”

“No! I just got here. It’s you who should get some rest. You’ve been here most of the night, haven’t you? You said you wouldn’t do that.”

“I couldn’t sleep, honey. Besides, it’s only been a couple of hours.”

“It’s been longer than that, and you know it,” she scolded gently. “Bertha said you left right after I went to bed.”

“Good old Bertha and her Indian ears! She doesn’t miss much, does she? I expect she’d hear a cricket sneeze. Have you told the kids about Rick yet?”

Gwen shook her head. “Bertha was going to tell Dodie as soon as she got back from dropping me off here. I doubt if Dodie goes to school, either.” She settled beside him on the cold leather couch. “Have you heard anything about Rick’s condition?”

Hal glanced down the hall in the general direction of Rick’s room. “Still critical. And the nurses won’t tell me a damn thing. Wish I could catch Doc Murphy.”

“He’s probably still eating breakfast. He won’t be here for hours. Why don’t you go home for a while? I’ll be here. I’ll talk to the doctor. Please, Uncle Hal. You look terrible. Your getting sick won’t help Rick any.” She touched his arm. “He’s going to make it, Uncle Hal. We have to believe that.”

“And if he doesn’t, it’s my fault.”

“Why do you think that?”

“If I hadn’t interfered, Bert Medina wouldn’t have beaten him up. And if I hadn’t told Rick to leave us alone, he would’ve called us for help. He wouldn’t have just lain there, alone, and in pain.” Hal shook his head in wonder. “It got all mixed up. I didn’t aim for it to come out this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He trusted me.” Hal rolled his eyes. “Lord, I don’t know why, but he trusted me. And I let him down. I didn’t realize it until we found our phone number clutched in his hand. He still trusted me, but he didn’t know if he dared call. It’s bothered me ever since. During all those weeks of riding together, I’ve had the chance to heal myself and help a kid who’s never had anyone on his side. Maybe that’s what D.L. Farley intended by putting us in the same squad car. But all I wanted was to punish Rick for Lori’s death, to make him feel guilty. I forced him to live in a hell that no one deserves. Now I know what guilt is. He’s dying, and it’s my fault.”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating! You couldn’t have….”

His eyes blazed. “Don’t you think I know what I did?!”

“But I still don’t understand how….”

Hal stared at the floor. “I hurt him worse than his father’s fists ever could. I didn’t use my fists. That would’ve been too easy. What I did was slower, more hideous. I went after his mind and his soul. And I twisted him around until his brain was screaming. That’s why he’s been acting so crazy lately. But what I did started a long time before Dodie’s bike accident. I took out on him any hate I’ve ever had against anyone who ever crossed me up. He was my scapegoat. I persecuted him, and he squirmed under my thumb.”

“But, but, I saw you laughing together and helping each other. You weren’t persecuting him then.”

“But, don’t you see, that’s how I did it. I let him think everything was all right, but underneath I was always ready to spring the trap. And he knew it. He even hoped his death would settle the score for Lori, but I let him know that his guilt would pursue him through Hell.”

Gwen smiled gently. “You weren’t that rough on Rick all the time, and I know it. Your conscience is bothering you, that’s all. Why, you even let him be part of our family. Some mean person you are!”

“Yes, that’s probably the worst thing I did. He liked being at our place, and then I took it all away from him. He was so darn happy with you guys. Somehow, he managed to grab a few scraps of kindness from you. But then I got jealous and chased him away from some of the few people he cared for, the family I didn’t want to share. I was wrong to do that, but I didn’t stop there. Oh, no, not me. The last night he rode on patrol with me, we got into an argument. Gwen, I, I told him I didn’t care what happened to him. I told him to go ahead and, ah, die, because no one would miss him anyway.” He glanced at her with hollow eyes. “Now you can see just what kind of a monster I really am.”

Gwen looked horrified. No wonder Rick had been so bitter when he’d kissed her. He’d been smarting from Hal’s verbal abuse.

“Last night you said Rick wouldn’t fight to live because he thought nobody liked him. Well, I did that to him, Gwen. Me, and my stupid revenge.”

“Nobody could blame you for feeling that way, Uncle Hal. Naturally, you’d have a resentment against the person who was responsible for your daughter’s death.”

“I don’t hold that against him, anymore. I haven’t for a long time now. But I was too stubborn to let him know that. No, our fight wasn’t about Lori’s death, even though that’s what we were hollering about. Truth is, I found him creeping back into my life. I didn’t want that, so I used the argument to push him away completely. I thought I was finally rid of him for good.”

“That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Hal’s face twisted with pain. “But I like him, damn it! That’s one thing I hadn’t counted on happening. I like him, and he doesn’t know it. I don’t want him to die not knowing. Hell, what am I saying?! I don’t want him to die!”

“Then, why in the name of Heaven, haven’t you told him any of this?!”

“Because it took me all night sitting here in this ugly room to accept it. That’s what I was really fighting all along, especially the night of the argument. And I was losing, because, despite everything, I, I….” His voice trailed off.

Gwen studied her uncle’s sad, weary face. “Oh, Uncle Hal, I feel so sorry for you. So, that’s why you’ve been so cantankerous since Dodie’s accident. You missed Rick, too, but you wouldn’t admit it, not even to yourself. It took something terrible like this to show you how you really feel about him.”

Hal brushed tears aside. “I feel like I’m cracking up. I must be awfully tired.” He took her hand and held it for a long time. “It helped to tell you. Somehow, I feel better. Maybe I can go home and get a little sleep now. I know he’s in good hands with you here.” He started to rise, then pulled her into his arms. “I like you a little bit, too,” he said warmly. “Or haven’t I ever told you that?”

The show of affection rattled Gwen. “I guess I just hoped, I mean, assumed….”

“Well, there won’t be anymore guessing from now on. Just let those rich relatives of your dad’s try to get you away from me. I won’t give you up! Not ever. I love you, honey. And you‘re staying with us!”

Her eyes misted. “That’s what I was wanting to hear when Uncle Floyd almost took me back to Chicago. If I hadn’t gotten so angry and told him and Aunt Agatha off, I might be there right now, never knowing that you cared.”

He squeezed her arm. “I never thought I had to say it. I thought people would simply know how I felt.”

“It’s still nice to hear. Oh, Uncle Hal, I love you so much, but I didn’t know if I dared to tell you. You can act pretty gruff at times.”

Hal winced. “Be patient with me, angel. You’re not the first one to tell me I can act like an unfeeling rock.”

“Rick?”

Hal nodded. “He said I better mend my ways before I turned everyone against me. He said it was too late for him and Lori. I never thought he meant dying.”

“Listen to me! He didn’t mean dying, either. He’s going to live, Uncle Hal. We’ll fight to keep him.”

He smiled at the fierceness that occasionally flared up in his meek niece. “With you on our side, how can we lose?”

She smiled back at him with dancing eyes and threw her arms around his neck.

“Remember to talk to the doctor,” he said a few moments later as he left.

“I will,” she called after him. “But I’m sure Rick will be better by the time you get back.”

Gwen’s mouth trembled slightly as she watched Hal walk away. How proud she felt of his trust in her! And how happy she was to know that she’d always be a part of his family.

 

When Hal returned that afternoon, he was relaxed and in better spirits. And his businesslike attitude had returned. “I’d appreciate it, Gwen, if you didn’t say anything about what I told you this morning. I was blue and feeling pretty guilty.”

“Have you changed your mind about how you feel about me and Rick?”

“Never. I’m just not sure the feeling’s mutual. Before you say anything, I know how you feel. But Rick may be, well, unreceptive. I’ve got my thoughts back into perspective now. And I’m sure that he’s better by now. What did Doc say?”

“Doctor Murphy wants to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“That’s all he’d say.”

Hal found Murphy in his hospital office. “Afternoon, Doc. How’s Medina doing?”

The doctor wrinkled his brow. “Not very good, Hal.”

Hal looked surprised. “I don’t understand. He wasn’t hurt that bad. What’s wrong? Pneumonia?”

“Not yet. We can’t get him to wake up. We need to find out about his concussion, and he can fight pneumonia better once he comes out of this stupor. He’s in no great danger, but he should be responding by now. We’ve been yelling at him, but he simply refuses to hear us.”

“Is he in a coma?”

“Coma would be a physical reaction to his injuries, and his condition isn’t caused by anything physical. It’s a stupor, or maybe even a torpor.”

“Those are just words, Doc. Without splitting hairs, what’s his trouble? Why won’t he wake up?”

“It’s mental. He’s deadened his mind to this world and put himself into a state of suspended animation. He’s refusing to hear us. He doesn’t have the will to live, anymore.”

That diagnosis chilled Hal. “Isn’t there something you can give him? Some pill?”

“You realize, of course, that pills don’t cure illness. They merely aid the body in healing itself. So, I’m powerless. His mind is ordering his body to die. No pill could fight that.”

Hal’s face whitened. “But a young boy like that-- It doesn’t make any sense. Surely, you can do something.”

Murphy sighed sadly. “I’ve tried everything.”

“But, but, it’s stupid to give up on him!”

“I haven’t given up; I simply don’t know what to do. The patient has to cooperate with us, you know. If he doesn’t want to live, there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

“Why’s he doing this, Doc?”

Murphy folded his hands and looked Hal in the eye. “There are many ways to commit suicide, and I think Rick is trying one of them.”

“Suicide?” Hal remembered what Bertha and George had said about Rick being a suicide. But Hal refused to accept that theory, then or now, even though he recognized it as the hooded doubt lurking in the back of his mind all day.

“You can keep him from killing himself!”

“I can keep him from dying; yes. His body is a machine, and we could keep it alive by hooking him up to other machines. But he’d be in permanent inertia with his soul trapped in some limbo that’d be neither living nor death. I won’t shut off the machines because I’ll do anything to keep my patient alive. But Rick will be a vegetable.”

“Isn’t there anything we can try, Doc?”

“There is one thing. Maybe someone who’s close to him could call him back. Do you know where his mother could be?”

“No. She deserted him months ago. And we haven’t found his father yet.”

“Rick doesn’t have any other family?”

“Nobody living close enough to get here quick.”

“Who are his friends?”

“He doesn’t have any. He’s a loner.” Hal thought a moment. “My niece Gwen is friendly with him.”

“Good! Is she here?”

“She’s in the waiting room. But, hold it, Doc. I won’t let her do it. She’s very emotional and already upset by him getting hurt. Seeing him all bandaged up might be too much of a shock for her.”

“We’ve got to let her try, Hal, if she will.”

“Okay,” Hal agreed reluctantly. “I’ll go ask her.”

 

Hal rushed into the waiting room. “George? You’re back?”

“We couldn’t stay away. Lucy’s outside.”

“Where’s Gwen?”

“Lucy took her out for some fresh air.”

“Let’s go find them.”

“All right. There’s something you should see out there, anyway.”

In the hospital parking lot, they found a small knot of mismatched people: Lucy Adams, Joe Pallack, Betty and Ray Doran, Velma Patterson, and Jesse Harris with his two cronies.

“What is this?” Hal demanded. “What do all of you want?”

Velma Patterson stepped forward. “We’re here to find out about Rick. How is he?”

“Still unconscious, I’m afraid. Joe? Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes, sir. I could’ve been Rick’s friend when he really needed one, but I didn’t have the guts to buck public opinion. I’m a little late, but I’m here now. Tell Rick that I’m pulling for him, Sheriff.”

“I would if I could, Joe. He won’t wake up.”

Jesse Harris sauntered up to Hal. “I figure you did it, Sheriff.”

“Did what?”

“Plastered him.”

Hal paled and couldn’t speak.

“You’re off-base, Harris,” George Adams snarled at the teenager.

“Let him go, George. I know what you’ve seen, Jesse. I know you think I hit him again, but I didn’t. I, I couldn’t.”

Jesse looked into Hal’s face. “No, I don’t think you could, either. Sorry.” He beat the toe of his tennis shoe against the cement paving. “Me and my big mouth.”

“That’s okay, Jesse. What else could you have thought, after the way I’ve acted?”

Betty Doran squeezed Hal’s arm. Her much slimmer husband stood behind her. “Sheriff, you two saved me and Roy, and we’ll never forget it. What can we do to help him now?”

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Betty. Doc thinks Gwen can help.”

“Then get her in there! We’ll be out here, praying.”

Hal’s eyes roamed the small crowd. “And I thought he didn’t have any friends. Where is Gwen, anyway?”

“Chris Butler’s with her,” Velma answered. “He’s walking her around the block to take her mind off Rick for awhile. Oh, here they come now.”

Chris’ sympathetic arm guided Gwen down the sidewalk. She kept her head lowered until Chris stopped, and she felt an awakening pressure from his arm across her shoulders.

Gwen gasped when she saw Hal’s somber face. “Uncle Hal, what’s wrong?! Is Rick worse?”

“I have to talk to you, Gwen. Rick needs you.”

“Me?” Gwen shrank against Chris.

“Go with him, honey,” Chris murmured. “You’ll be okay.” He squeezed her hand and looked at Hal. “If it hadn’t been for Rick, Gwen and I wouldn’t have gotten together. I tried to help him once, but he ran away. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for him. Maybe Gwen can.”

Hal held out his hand to Gwen.

Gwen glimpsed timidly into Chris’ eyes, but Chris firmly placed her hand into Hal’s hand.

Chris smiled gently at her. “She thinks she isn’t very brave, but we both know better than that, don’t we, Sheriff?”

 

“Anything different?” Murphy asked as they stood outside Rick’s room.

The young, dark-haired practical nurse shook her head. Her pretty face was solemn, as if she’d seen too much suffering in too short of a time.

“Take a break, Sue. A friend of his is going to try.” Murphy turned to Hal and Gwen as the nurse marched away. “Miss Denton has been sitting with Rick and calling to him. That’s what we want you to do, Gwen, but I think I should warn you. Rick’s appearance might frighten you. He’s being fed by intravenous so there’ll be a needle in his arm. He’s got a tube down his nose and throat to keep his lungs clear. And there’s a catheter to drain off his kidney wastes into a bag attached to the bed. He’s wired to machines so we can monitor his progress. Sometimes, the sight of all that equipment stuck into someone we like is scary. I want you to know what to expect. Think you can handle it?”

Gwen twisted her fingers together in apprehension and rolled her eyes at Hal, but she nodded quickly. “I want to help Rick,” she whispered.

Hal led her into a small, white room that had the hush of death about it. The pale drapes blended into the walls. Rick, his face turned toward the ceiling, lay silently in a sea of whiteness. His battered skull was swathed in a white bandage, which contrasted grotesquely with his swollen, bruised face and black eyes.

Gwen stiffened and stopped. “Oh, Uncle Hal,” she whispered. “He looks dead.” She felt Hal grip her arm.

“No, he isn’t,” Murphy reassured her. He pointed at a machine near Rick’s bed. “See that? You can watch his heartbeat on it.”

For a few minutes, the three watched the machine until Gwen got used to the strangeness of the white room.

“Do you want to try now, Gwen?” Murphy asked.

Gwen glanced at Hal, and he nodded for her to go ahead. She surrendered his hand and tiptoed to the bed.

“Rick?” she said softly. “Can you hear me, Rick?”

“You’ll have to talk louder than that to make him hear you,” Murphy said.

Gwen leaned nearer. “Rick? Wake up, Rick. It’s Gwen. Please, Rick, wake up.”

Rick remained motionless.

Gwen touched his shoulder, then glanced at the doctor.

“It’s okay to shake him, Gwen, but not too hard. Remember his broken ribs and the tubes sticking in him.”

Gwen shook Rick gently. “Rick? Please answer.” His quietness scared her. “Rick! Oh, Rick! Wake up!”

“That’s enough,” Hal said as he put his arm around Gwen. “It’s no use, honey. He can’t hear you.”

Gwen began to weep against Hal’s shoulder. “He can’t die, Uncle Hal! Oh, don’t let him die!”

“”Medina,” Hal said crossly, “you sure are causing a lot of trouble for a lot of folks. Why don’t you wake up and get out of that sack?” Hal turned to Murphy. “Doc, there’s some people outside who’d probably be more than willing to try. I’ll have them come up here a few at a time, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, it is! At this stage, I’ll go along with anything you want to try.”

Hal shot Rick a disgusted look. “I don’t know why in the living hell you’re doing this to us, kid. Dying is the coward’s way out, and I don’t think you’re a coward. But what’s the use of talking? You’d rather have all of us feeling sorry for you, wouldn’t you? Oh, come on, Gwen, let’s get out of here before I lose my temper.”

A tearful Gwen squeezed Rick’s hand and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself,” she murmured. “I’ll always love you.” She wiped away a tear.

“Can’t you see what you’re doing to Gwen?!” Hal growled. “Oh, hell, what’s the use? I thought you had more backbone, Medina.”

Gwen allowed Hal to lead her away.

“Wait!” the doctor commanded. “He moved!”

Hal stopped, and Gwen said, “Oh!”

“He heard you after all, Gwen. Talk to him again,” Murphy urged.

“Rick! Rick! Wake up! It’s Gwen. Oh, please, Rick!”

Nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked the doctor.

“It wasn’t you he heard, Gwen. It was your uncle.”

Hal looked startled. “Me?!”

Gwen brightened. “Why, of course, Uncle Hal! You’ve been around Rick more than anyone.”

“I know, but we’re not exactly friends.”

“Well, there’s something about you he responds to, Hal. Maybe it’s your authority. Why don’t you talk to him?”

“He did say something to me back at his house.”

“He did?! You never mentioned that before.”

“I didn’t know it’d be important, Doc. Is it?”

“It could mean that you can help him. I’d say that was pretty important, wouldn’t you?”

“Go ahead, Uncle Hal.”

“What do I say, Doc?”

“Talk to him the way you generally do.”

Hal thought of all the mean things he’d said to Rick lately. “To someone who’s sick?”

“It’s what he’s responding to.”

Hal stared at Rick. “But it doesn’t seem right….”

“Hal, I know you have personal differences with this boy, but the welfare of my patient could depend on you. He needs something familiar to come back to. You may well be the only chance he has. Otherwise, he might not make it.”

“I’ll try, Doc.” Hal wet his lips. “Medina? Can you hear me? Don’t just lie there like a zombie! Answer me! You don’t have to pretend anymore. You’re safe. No one will hit you. Come on, now. Doc Murphy is here. So is Gwen. She’s crying up a storm. You don’t want her to cry anymore, do you? We don’t like to see you this sick. Come on, wake up. Damn it, boy. Don’t make me beg!” Hal glanced at Murphy. “He isn’t moving, Doc.”

“He’s deliberately not responding.”

Anger flared through Hal. “Why are you doing this to us?! Do you want us to feel bad?! All right, we feel bad! Do you think we enjoy watching you die, knowing we’re partly responsible? We don’t want this guilt! Besides, that’s emotional blackmail, Rick! Don’t hurt us this way. By all that’s holy, Medina, you’re not getting by with this!”

Rick stirred.

“He DID move!” Gwen cried with joy.

“Go ahead, Sheriff. Try something else. Something familiar. Remind him of those patrols you rode together.”

Hal leaned over the bed. “Come on, kid! It’s Saturday night! Get in the cruiser! I know you don’t like it, but it’s no bed of roses to have you riding with me, either!”

Rick moaned and turned his head.

“That’s right, Medina! Try to get away! You’re stuck with me, so stop fighting.” Hal straightened. The words were like ashes in his mouth. “I can’t go on with this.”

“You’re too harsh, Hal. He heard you, but see how he’s pulling away. It’s you he’s trying to reach, not your authority. Stop being the sheriff. Tell him what you’d say if he were your friend. There must’ve been some good times you shared. Why, I remember when you were both in my office and weren’t one bit antagonistic toward each other. In fact, it was more the other way around, if I remember rightly. That’s the person he’s trying to find. Help the young man you knew then.”

“I don’t have to talk like a drill sergeant?”

“No. Let him know you’re here and want him to live. If you’re honest, he’ll know it.”

Hal quietly studied Rick. “Okay, kid. I guess we got something to do here. Shall I put the badge away and just be myself? Is that what you want? Is this what you’ve been waiting for? Me coming here on your terms?”

Rick slowly turned his head to Hal’s voice. Gwen gasped. It was like watching a dead person moving.

“All right, boy, we’ll do it your way, then. I’ll do my best for you. But you have to do your part, too. The doctor’s right, you know. It hasn’t all been bad, has it?” Hal shook his head. “I don’t know how in the hell anything good could come out of Lori’s death, but maybe I understand kids better since we had to ride together. Or maybe I just remember a little better now. You’re not such a bad kid, if you didn’t have such a smart lip. I guess you’ve had to be that way, though, to survive, didn’t you?” Hal rubbed the back of his neck. “Want to hear something funny? It wasn’t so bad having you ride around with me on Saturday nights. On second thought, it isn’t funny at all. I get kind of lonely out there, and I guess you were company.”

“That’s good, Sheriff. I think he hears you.”

Hal needed no encouragement. He barely heard Murphy as guilty words tumbled out of his mouth. “I know I sounded off a lot and acted tough, kid, but I guess that’s the way I thought I had to act. That’s where I made my mistake. I shouldn’t have treated you like a criminal. Gwen said I was wrong to keep on punishing you, but I wouldn’t listen to her. Once, you asked if I was ever wrong. Well, I was wrong, wrong about you, and I’m here to admit it. It was up to the court to punish you, not me.” Hal got an earnest look on his face as he gripped the headboard and leaned further over the bed. “But Lori was my little girl, Rick. I rocked her when she cut her first tooth. I held her on my lap and told her fairy tales. When she fell out of that peach tree in the backyard, I picked her up and dried her tears. I even helped her pick out her first prom dress because her mother couldn’t.” Hal bit his lips together, then drew a deep breath. “But what happened to Lori was an accident, and it wouldn’t be right if you had to die for it. I know I said different often enough, but I was wrong. I just want you to come out of this. You deserve to live, kid. Nobody can take that away from you. Not even me.” He bit his lips again. “I should’ve told you this a long time ago, son, and I almost did once. You didn’t kill Lori. I forgive you.” Hal straightened and felt pounds lighter as he turned away.

The doctor was quiet for a moment. He felt embarrassed after witnessing such an intimate appeal. “I’m sorry you had to put yourself through that, Hal. I didn’t realize things were that sensitive between you two. Save the rest that you want to say to him for later. Rick should know you’ve forgiven him. He deserves that, too. Right now, try to stop him from stirring around so much. He’s going to hurt his ribs and pull out those tubes if he doesn’t settle down.” Murphy touched Hal’s arm. “I know this is painful for you, Hal, but your job isn’t over yet. He still needs you.”

Hal nodded, then sat on the bed and put his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Take it easy, kid. Don’t move around so much. You’ve been hurt, and you’re in a hospital. Moving around isn’t good for you. That’s better.” He shook Rick slightly. “Try to wake up now.”

Rick shrank away from Hal’s hand and his face wrinkled in pain. “No, no, please, don’t. Don’t hit me again.”

Hal looked surprised and lifted his hand. “I won’t hurt you, son. I’m here to help you.”

“Nowhere to go, nowhere—“

“Help him, Sheriff.”

Hal put his arm under Rick’s neck and leaned toward him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Rick. You’re okay now.”

Rick’s fingers reached out and touched Hal. He tried to pull closer. “Help me. Help me.”

Hal drew Rick nearer. “It’s okay, son. You’re all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He adjusted Rick’s tubes.

Rick settled against Hal’s upper arm and quieted.

“What now, Doc?”

“Talk to him some more. He trusts you.”

Hal looked down at the charge on his arm and grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d get a hold of you like this again. Not after all those fights. You know, you look like you’re about six years old. But you have a knack of doing that, don’t you? You look that ways lots of times when you’re asleep, especially in the car.” Hal frowned. “Odd thing about those Saturday nights. At first, I thought you were a big bag of wind. But you were only scared, weren’t you? Just like me. Does that surprise you? Bet you thought I was afraid of nothing, didn’t you? Well, that’s not true. You know how often I get scared? All the time. Scared that some guy’s going to take me. Scared that I’ll get voted out of office. Scared of everything. But I bet you’d understand that, wouldn’t you? There might be a lot of things we could understand about each other, if we’d just try.” He touched Rick’s cheek. “He’s awfully hot, Doc.”

“Moving around has brought up his fever. It comes from the head injury. Have him wake up, and we can help him.”

“All right, Rick,” Hal said softly. “Open your eyes, and you’ll be okay.”

But Rick started thrashing around. “Water!” he called. “Water!”

“Doc? Can I give him some water?”

“He can’t have any.”

“Come on! He’s burning up!”

“I’m not being cruel. He’d choke on water. He’s still unconscious.”

“Water,” Rick called feebly. He clutched at Hal’s arm and whimpered. “Please. Please. Water.”

“I can’t. You can’t have any water, baby. I’m sorry. Oh, Lord, I’m sorry.” Hal lost control for a moment, and then felt himself growing sterner because he knew he had to be. “Now, I know you can hear me, Rick. And I know it hurts to wake up. But you can’t sleep your life away. You have to wake up and live. I’m here. I’ll help you. You might not believe that, but I will. You can call my bluff later if you want, but you’ll have to be awake to do that. You can kick hell out of me if you dare try, but you’ll have to get better first because I’ll sure as hell fight back. There’re a lot of folks here who’ll help you, but you have to help yourself first. You have to have the guts to want to live. And I know you can do it. I put you through hell since Lori got killed. If you can survive that, you can survive anything. Now, open your eyes, and you can have the water.”

Rick’s eyes flew open, and Rick stared wildly at Hal. He tried to pull out of Hal’s arms.

“Careful! Don’t fight me! You’ll pull out your tubes!”

“Don’t hit me anymore! Please!”

“I, I’m not the one who hurt you. I’m Sheriff Endicott, remember? No. No, wait. Not the sheriff. Hal. It’s Hal. Don’t you know me?”

As Rick stared, the wildness gradually disappeared from his eyes. “Hal?”

“Yes,” Hal answered softly. “Hal.”

Rick sighed and relaxed.

“Here’s the water.” Murphy handed over the glass.

Hal carefully helped Rick to drink, and then set the glass aside.

Suspicion flickered in Rick’s eyes as he drew back. “What are you doing here? You told me to get lost.”

“I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You said, you said you’d bust me up.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I couldn’t hurt you, son.”

“But he did. And you didn’t help me. Where were you? Where were you?!”

“I’m sorry,” he said so softly that only Rick could understand him. “I know I failed you, and I’m sorry. You don’t know how truly sorry I am.”

A new interest came into Rick’s eyes as he searched Hal’s face. “Yes, I do.” His fingers reached up and gingerly touched Hal’s cheek. Rick seemed fascinated with what he saw. “I was wrong, so wrong,” he said in wonder. His face softened into a beautiful smile. “I’m glad.” Then he nestled his head against Hal’s chest and closed his eyes.

“Doc!”

Murphy smiled. “He’s all right, Hal. He’s fallen into a light sleep. He’ll awaken naturally in a little while.”

“Will he be all right?”

“I think so. I’ll know more after I examine him then.”

“He’s just gotta be all right, Doc. If he isn’t, it’s all my fault.”

Murphy looked startled. “You didn’t beat him up!”

“No, but if it hadn’t been for me and my damned job, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. I wouldn’t blame you if you did suspect me of doing it. Others have. The whole town knows how I’ve felt about him. But not anymore. God, not anymore.” Hal studied the sleeping youth in his arms. “I hope to God you can learn to trust someone again,” he whispered. “If not me, then the Doc. He’s a good guy. He won’t let you down like I did.” 

Pain twisted his face as he carefully gathered Rick against him. “How dumb can one guy be? I’m sorry I treated you like dirt, kid. I don’t blame you if you don’t ever forgive me, but you gotta get well. I’ll make it up to you, somehow. I’ll make him pay. If it helps, I’m already paying for what I did to you.” He nestled his cheek against Rick’s and began to rock him. “I’m sorry, baby.” He could barely choke the words out of his constricted throat. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Please be all right. If you are, I promise I’ll never bother you again.” His voice caught as his body shook. “Please, honey. Please.” He turned his head slightly so the others couldn’t see, gave Rick’s temple a soft kiss, and hid his face against Rick’s shoulder. Muffled sounds of weeping were heard in the otherwise quiet room as Hal gently rocked Rick in his arms.

Murphy coughed. “That’s all you can do now, Hal. Let him sleep. You need rest yourself. I’ll give you a sedative.”

“I don’t need anything, Doc.” He sounded exhausted as he pulled up from Rick’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

“You’re personally involved with this boy, Hal. His illness has gotten you upset, perhaps more than you realize.”

“It doesn’t matter about me anymore.” He eased Rick to his pillow and pulled the sheet over him. “Goodbye, son,” he murmured.

Hal blew his nose and mopped his face so that no tears showed when he turned.

“How much of this will he remember, Doc?”

“It’ll probably seem nothing more than a distant dream”

“That’s good.”

“But, Sheriff, I thought….”

“I don’t care what happened in here today. It’s not what he wants. He’s not to remember it. Understood?”

“But what if he remembers, and asks?”

“You just get him better, Doc. If he remembers, he’ll think it was some nightmare. He doesn’t want a thing to do with me. Come on, Gwen. Let’s get out of here.”

“Gwen, I’m afraid I don’t agree with your uncle. Doesn’t he realize why Rick heard him?”

“No, I think he doesn’t. Either that, or he’s afraid to believe it. He thinks Rick hates him.”

“Hates him? Why, I hardly think….”

“Are you coming, Gwen?” Hal thundered from the doorway.

“Call if you need us,” she told the doctor. 

Gwen had to run to catch up with Hal in the hallway. “Wait! Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’ve got a job to get back to.”

“Wait. Please!” She grabbed his arm to stop him. “Uncle Hal, what’s wrong? You can’t run out on Rick now.”

“I’m not running out.”

“Well, it sure looks like it! How can you do that after what’s happened? I saw you hold Rick in your arms. I saw you crying. You have a genuine affection for him. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I need time to think,” he mumbled.

“To think?! About what?! The only thing that’s important is Rick’s recovery. And he will, with you helping him. Why, what I saw in that room was beautiful. One person helping another. One person reaching out….”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. You’re talking like a child.”

“All right, maybe I am! I expect I do sound like a child to you. Perhaps I do live in a dream world where everyone is kind to each other. Maybe I do think people are better than they really are. What’s so wrong with that?!”

Hal sighed. “Because they aren’t, honey. You’re too softhearted. You’ll only get hurt.”

“I’ll take my chances on you two!” she snapped.

“I shouldn’t have called you a child, but be realistic. Stop looking at Rick and me through rose-colored glasses.”

“Maybe I can see better than either of you. You called me childish. Rick called me romantic. Maybe you’re both right. But at least I’m honest. And I’m not afraid of an honest emotion. You’re a strong person, but you’re running from this.”

“I am not!”

“Then why don’t you want Rick to remember that you called him back?”

Hal saddened. “Because I’m scared, Gwen. I’m scared stiff. The night we quarreled, I saw pure hate in his eyes.” He couldn’t tell her what else he’d seen. “When he wakes up, I’m afraid that same hate will be there. I can’t take that after nearly causing his death.”

“You mean, you won’t be able to take it after baring your heart to him, don’t you? You’re afraid he’ll find that soft spot and pounce on it. You’re afraid he’ll find out how you really feel about h im and still push you away.”

Hal sighed. “That’s, ah, just about it.”

“Maybe you don’t have enough faith in him.”

“But I saw the hate. His eyes were burning with it.”

“Maybe you saw what he wanted you to see that night. He had his own feelings to protect, too. But I can tell you one thing. He wasn’t pretending a few minutes ago. Rick was somewhere far away where he thought he was safe from a world that’d never been very kind to him. Nothing in this world was worth coming back to, except you. That reaction I trust.”

“And I made the difference. It’s enough to scare the hell out of a guy. To know he was dying, and then-- My God!” He shivered, then shook himself. “No. There’s too much trouble between us. Lori will always be there. And we’ve said some bitter things to each other, things that you don’t know about.”

“But that could all be forgotten if you’d both let it. Face it, admit it, and then forget it. You could do anything together.”

“Oh, honey, I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. He wouldn’t want it. If he makes it, if he comes out of this mess okay, the best thing I can do for him is to get out of his life for good.”

“You think that’s what he wants?”

“Yes.”

“But you promised you’d help him, too. I heard you. But, more importantly, he heard you. Which promise are you keeping? To stay or to keep away?”

“I said I’ll help him, and I will. I’ll help him even if he doesn’t want my help. But he’d rather not have it. He’d rather not have anything to do with me.”

“Are you sure?” She watched Hal slowly nod his head. “Then how come you were the only one that Rick heard?”

“He was scared of me. He knew I was the Law, and he had to obey, or else.”

“That’s nonsense! You don’t believe that anymore than I do.”

“But he does! He said I’m a badge and nothing else. How can I help someone who feels that way?”

“You have to try! If you reject Rick now, he may never hear anyone again. He could be lost for good. He may even go into a life of crime. And that really would be your fault.”

“Why are trying to make me feel guilty?!”

“I’m not. You are! If you don’t do everything you can for him right now, you’re going to feel guilty about it for the rest of your life. And I don’t want to watch you suffering because of it.”

“I, I can’t do what you’re asking.”

“You’re running again!” She touched his arm. “I know you’re afraid of getting hurt. But think of how much Rick’s already suffered. His family has disintegrated before his eyes. All he’s ever gotten from this town is dishonor and shame. And we have hurt him, too. He’ll have to learn to trust us again. Oh, try to help him! Please!”

Hal chewed his lip. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Gwen. We’ll see how he acts when he wakes up. If he wants to be friends, I’ll go along with it. But, if he doesn’t-- Well, I’ll go along with that, too. And so will you. Okay?”

“Fair enough.”

He saw the gleam of conspiracy in her eyes. “Now, I don’t want any coaching from the sidelines. I might’ve saved his life, but it’s because of me that he’s hurt. He owes me nothing. I’d call it about square. Do I have your word on that?”

She reluctantly nodded her head. “I’ll only say something to him if I think you both want me to. Agreed?”

Hal drew himself up. “Well, I guess I could go along with that. There’s little chance of that ever happening, though. Legally, I’ll do everything I can for him. As for the other, well, it all depends on him. We can’t force anything.”

“Let’s go tell the others that he woke up.” She hugged his arm and smiled. “Oh, I’m so glad you really like him.”

Hal sighed. “I’m afraid that might not be enough anymore.”

“You’ll see,” she guaranteed. “You’ll see.”


	22. The Visits

“Look, Medina, you might as well admit the truth! I know your old man beat you up! How else could you’ve gotten so hurt?!”

Rick lay elevated in bed, his head bandaged and his ribs secured by a binder. He glowered up at a fuming Hal.

“I told you that I fell against the kitchen door.”

“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly?! Did you stand there and beat yourself with that door?! How did you keep swinging it when you were unconscious and your chest hurt to breathe?!”

“Don’t upset him,” Murphy cautioned. “He’s still weak.”

“And how upsetting do you think a beating was?!” Hal rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “I’m sorry, Doc. Is that your story, Medina? Your father is innocent?”

“Leave my old man out of it,” Rick mumbled.

“Do you know where he is? Where he went to?”

“No.”

“I can’t do much to help you if you won’t cooperate.”

“Then don’t help.”

“I have to find him so he can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Legally, not until you’re eighteen. And that’s months from now. Maybe your brother could help.”

Rick brightened. “Casey? Yeah. He’s still in the Navy. Stationed in Virginia.”

“I’ll call him. Anything else you need?”

The friendly offer surprised Rick until he remembered that Hal was merely doing his job. “I’ve got some clothes and stuff back at the house. Someone might steal it.”

“I’ll check the house and make sure it’s still locked.”

After Hal left, Murphy apologized. “I’m sorry, Rick, but he insisted on talking to you.”

“You couldn’t interfere with a peace officer doing his duty, could you?”

Rick puzzled Murphy who left mumbling.

A few minutes later, Gwen pushed open the door.

“How are you, Rick?”

“Hey, you better leave before your uncle finds you in here!”

She smiled. “He’s the one who sent me in here, silly. He thought you’d like some company.”

“Say, has he flipped out or something? Why’s he acting so nice?”

“He’s sorry you got hurt.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I opened my mouth to my old man, and he shut it for me.”

“Uncle Hal said you wouldn’t say who hurt you!”

“And I don’t want you to, either. Okay?”

“But why protect your father?”

“What good would it do to throw the old sot in jail? I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“But what are you going to do? Where will you live?”

“With my brother, I hope. Your uncle’s going to call Casey.” Rick took a good look at Gwen. “You look tired. So did he,  
your uncle.”  
“We’ve been at the hospital for the better part of three days now. And when Uncle Hal wasn’t here, he was looking for your father. There’s an all-points bulletin out for him in Oklahoma and surrounding states. Uncle Hal will catch him and make him pay for what he did to you.”

“No!”

“What?”

“You have to stop him! Don’t let him go after Dad!”

“I’m afraid you can’t protect your father any longer. It’s a matter for the law now.”

“Stop him from looking for my dad! Your uncle’s not the tiger he thinks he is. My old man could hurt him bad.”

“Uncle Hal can take care of himself.”

“No, he can’t! My dad’s strong as a bull! And he’s mad at the sheriff. Don’t you understand?! He’s what we were fighting about! Dad’s jealous. He’ll kill your uncle if he tries to take Dad in.”

“Why, you’re protecting Uncle Hal! He thought you were shielding your father, but you don’t want Uncle Hal to get hurt. Why didn’t you tell him that?”

“He wouldn’t have believed me. There’s bad blood between us.”

“No, there isn’t. Oh, Rick, don’t you remember yesterday when….” Gwen bit her lips together, recalling her promise.

“Remember what, yesterday?”

“Just me and Uncle Hal being here all the time. We’ve barely slept.”

“You two did all that for me? Why? Because you felt sorry for me?”

“A little, I guess.” Gwen burned to tell Rick the truth.

“Well, I don’t need your pity, understand?! And I don’t need any high-and-mighty sheriff fighting my battles for me, either. He can go out and get his head caved in for all I care! Just leave me alone!”

Gwen couldn’t be a very brave girl at that moment, and Rick’s belligerence crushed her. She burst into tears and ran for the door.

“Hey! Wait! I’m sorry! Don’t go! Oh!”

Gwen heard him sit up and fall back to his bed. When she got to him, he was white-faced. His eyes were pinched tightly shut.

“What’s wrong?”

“The concussion. My ribs. I moved too fast. I’m dizzy. Can’t breathe.”

“Do you want Doctor Murphy?”

“No,” he whispered. “Just stay with me.” His hand snaked out toward hers. “Please don’t leave.”

Gwen took his hand. “I won’t. Just rest. I shouldn’t have upset you. You’ve been awfully sick.”

Rick cautiously opened his eyes. “There. It’s better.” He searched her face. “I hurt you again, didn’t I? Just like the day I kissed you. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you that day, either. You’ve always been real nice to me, and that wasn’t any way for me to act. I don’t know why I did it.”

“I do. Dodie and Uncle Hal hurt your feelings, and you tried to get back at them through me.”

“I won’t do that again. I promise. I know who’s to blame. Before you say it, I don’t mean Dodie. Just him.”

The weight of her promise was heavy. “No. Please!”

“Why not? He resents me because of Lori’s death.”

“Not anymore.”

“Now you’re fibbing! He hates my guts.”

“You said yourself that he was nice to you awhile ago.”

“And you said it was because he felt guilty.”

“Oh, no, Rick! I was with him when he found you. He was really worried about you. He wants to help. A lot of times, though, he doesn’t know how. Help him to help you.”

“This is all nonsense.” Rick squirmed uncomfortably. “You’d better leave now.” He caught her hand again. “But, but you will be back, won’t you?”

Gwen smiled. “Of course. How could I stay away from my dearest friend?” She kissed his cheek. “Oh, Rick, you scared us,” she whispered.

He pushed her back and frowned at her tears. Maybe he meant something to the Endicotts, after all. 

 

Gwen stopped Hal as he was leaving the house.

“Are you going to the hospital to see Rick?”

“Yes. I have to tell him about his father.”

“Give him my best and tell him I’ll see him later.”

“All right, Gwen.”

“Wait! What’s wrong? You act like you’d rather take a beating yourself than see Rick. Why?”

“You know why. He’s as obstinate as a mule eared donkey. He doesn’t like me being in the same room with him.”

“That’s because he thinks you’re still mad at him. He doesn’t know how you acted when he was unconscious.”

“You haven’t said anything, have you?”

“Of course not. I promised, didn’t I? But I still think it’s a bad promise, though. It’s hurting both of you.”

“It’s the way he wants it,” Hal mumbled.

 

“Missouri authorities have notified me that they have your father in jail at Springfield. He tried to hold up a bank there. He’ll probably go to prison for a long, long time.”

Rick stared, unblinking, and then a cruel grin twisted his young face. “Serves the old sot right.”

Hal winced. How could Rick be so unfeeling? After all, Bert was still his father. Rick had always sacrificed himself to stay with Bert. Maybe this last beating was one too many, but still….

“I wanted to extradite him for child-beating, but this grand larceny charge is more….”

“Forget it, will you?! Won’t you just forget it?! Just leave it alone! I don’t want to hear about him anymore.”

“But he should pay for what he did to you.”

“Maybe I deserved it. Did you ever think about that?”

“I know better than that. He hit you because I talked to him about the other time he hit you.”

“You were only doing your duty. You had to talk to him.”

Hal exhaled noisily. “I’m glad you understand about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s your job.”

Hal felt almost lightheaded. But a moment later, his guilt was replaced by something else.

“Just like it’s your job to lock up my house and patrol the streets. You do one hell of a good job as a sheriff. It’s still too bad you don’t cut it as a person.”

“I thought you’d changed your mind about that.”

Rick frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why should I change my mind? You’re still one of the coldest fish I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t I get to say anything in my own defense?”

“What do you want to say?”

What could Hal say without telling Rick everything? “Nothing, I guess.” He sounded exhausted and beaten.

Rick momentarily banked his venom. “What’s wrong?”

Hal shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Come on now. There has to be.”

Hal took a chance. “Don’t you remember anything about being unconscious?”

Rick shrugged. “Just darkness. No time passed, but I know I missed a day or two. It’s kind of scary, not knowing. What happened, anyway? Gwen asked me about it, too.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. But there seems to be something, if I could only remember.”

“Don’t try. You’ll only give yourself a headache. It wasn’t important anyway.”

“But I have a feeling it was.”

“Not really.”

“Hey, I’m glad you and Gwen found me. I appreciate it.”

“I was just doing….”

“If you say once more that you were just doing your duty, I’m going to get out of this bed and bust you!”

“But I was.”

“Damn you!” Tears stung Rick’s eyes, and he angrily swatted them away. “Don’t you ever do anything human? Why do you have to think you’re God Almighty? You’re not! What gets to you, anyway?! What does it take for you to feel anything? Does someone almost have to die?!”

Hal couldn’t speak. Rick didn’t know how close to the truth he was.

“Nothing bothers you, does it? Well, I’ve had enough! I’m getting out of this town. That probably doesn’t bother you, either, does it? Out of sight, out of mind. That’s your motto. Except you want me out of sight and underground. Sorry I never accommodated you. Remember me as the burr you finally got out of your hide, because I’m going to remember you. You’re a big fraud. I wish Gwen luck. She wants to stick with you. She’s a pretty gutsy gal, considering. Now, leave me alone. I surely have the right to privacy, even from the law.”

“What, what will you do, if, if you leave town?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going a long ways from here. That much I can guarantee. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“You’re not a, a bother.” Infinite sadness settled over Hal’s shoulders like a fine dust. His eyes began to sting from that dust. “You never were a, a bother. I should’ve never let you think that, that you, that I….”

Startled and embarrassed, Rick saw something in Hal’s face he didn’t want to see. No, he wanted to see it, but it frightened him, too. “Get out! Get out, or I’ll have the doctor throw you out!”

Hal held up his hand. “You don’t have to do that. I’m leaving. I won’t bother you anymore, either.” But Hal stopped at the door. His sad eyes sought out Rick’s. Hal opened his mouth to say something, then saw Rick’s agitated face.

Words choked in Hal’s throat as a powerful emotion flowed from him to Rick. It electrified both of them, but it was Rick’s turn to be paralyzed.

Stunned, Hal backed out of the room.

Rick drew a great, shuddering breath through his opened mouth and rolled his eyes wildly at the white ceiling. Damn it! Damn that sheriff! He dug his fists into his smarting eyes. “Leave me alone! I don’t need you anymore!” He pushed his face into his pillow and sobbed.

Hal stumbled blindly down the hall. Passersby gave him strange looks that he never noticed.

Dazed, he huddled against a wall. Rick’s coldness penetrated his skin and chilled him. He pulled his arms around himself, but found no warmth there.

Such loathing! Such contempt! Hal knew he deserved Rick’s hatred, but he had no idea it’d hurt so much.

“Sheriff Endicott? Are you all right?”

Hal straightened and wiped his face with his hankie. “I’m fine, Miss Denton,” he told the young, worried nurse with the crease between her dark eyes.

“Are you ill? Would you like to see a doctor?”

“No, no, I’m okay. Thank you.” He tried to take a step, then grimaced and clutched his stomach. “Help me,” he whispered. “Doctor Murphy.”

Sue Denton grabbed his arm and kept him from going down.

 

“Well, you did it again, didn’t you, Hal? You were up ‘talking’ to Rick, weren’t you?”

Hal squirmed in his chair. “I was on official business.”

Murphy shook his head. “I’ve got a whee of a lecture I’d like to give you, but then you’d be mad at me and wouldn’t seek further medical attention. That wouldn’t help you any.” He drummed a pencil on his desk. “Hal, you’ve got a nervous stomach. Ever since you found Rick beaten up, you’ve put in some nightmarish days with him. Your eating and sleeping schedules have been cockeyed. And, on top of all that, you’ve been arguing with him since he woke up. You’ve pushed yourself to the limits. Either get it straightened out with him, or leave him alone. Otherwise, you’re going to become a patient in here yourself.”

“I hate being sick, Doc. I’ll leave Medina alone.”

“Now, it won’t help you any if you have to say that with your lips all tight together like that. You might have to make peace with that boy for your own health’s sake. How bad could that be? Don’t scowl! Rick seems like a pretty nice young man to me.”

 

Rick heard a slight movement and opened his eyes. Dodie Endicott was staring at him from the foot of his hospital bed. Her dark eyes enlarged with fear as she clutched some half-wilted carnations in her hand.

Rick gave her a lazy smile. His last outburst against Hal had purged him of anger, and he was happy to greet his many unexpected visitors. He never knew he had so many friends, and their concern warmed him with pleasure. For Hal, he felt nothing but indifference.

“Hi, small fry. How’d you get past the nurses?”

Dodie relaxed at the familiar sound of Rick’s voice, but looked cautiously around. “I sneaked up the back stairs.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Dodie stepped closer. “I brought you some flowers.”

“They’re nice. Put them in my water glass.”

She did, then seriously studied him. “Do you hurt awful bad?”

“At times. It feels better now. Doc Murphy put a binder on my chest so I can breathe easier. And my head doesn’t bounce around as much as it did.”

“Gwen said you had a great, big bandage on your head.”

“I did. I looked like the Sheik of Araby for a while. But now, Doc Murphy thinks that this little patch will do.”

“I was awful sorry when I heard you’d been hurt. I wanted to do something to take away the pain.”

“Just seeing you helps, honey.”

She picked at the sleeve of his hospital gown. “I think I know now why you got so mad when I rode the mini-bike. I could’ve gotten hurt bad, and you didn’t want that to happen. If you like someone, you don’t want that person to be hurting.”

“That’s right. I didn’t care if the bike wound up in a thousand pieces, just so you didn’t.”

“I cried when I heard you were hurt,” she admitted shyly.

Rick wrinkled his brow. “You did?”

“Of course, I didn’t let THEM know. They all think I’m a monster. And monsters don’t cry.”

“Now, why should you let them think that?”

“You don’t care what they think of you, either, do you?”

“They’re not my family. They don’t have to like me.”

“But we do! Like you.” Her dark eyes saddened. “I’m sorry I said I didn’t like you anymore, because I do. I just said that to hurt your feelings.”

“I know. You did.”

“And when you were unconscious and wouldn’t wake up, I wished a hundred, hundred times I hadn’t said it. And I thought I might not ever get to tell you any different.”

“So, you sneaked upstairs.” He frowned. “Hey, now, is that a tear?”

She nodded and sniffed.

“I thought monsters didn’t cry,” he teased gently.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing,” he said softly. “I think it’s a beautiful tear. And I think you’re beautiful, even if you are a mouthy little kid.” He drew a line across the back of her hand. “Monsters do cry, Dodie. Life tears them up just as much as it does other folks, but monsters don’t want anyone to know about it. And that’s a mistake. Isn’t it?”

Her smile quivered, but Dodie quickly nodded her head. “How can you understand that so well?”

“Maybe I’ve been a monster, too. I guess we’ve all been, in one way or another. But I don’t want to be that way with you anymore. What do you say? Friends again?”

Her eyes glowed as she shook her head. She searched for an spot with no bruises on his cheek and kissed it. “I wish you were my big brother, Rick.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Now, what would I do with a sassy little sister like you getting in my way and causing me all sorts of trouble?” He touched her short, blonde hair as his eyes flicked over her solemn little face. “Love you, that’s what. And I do. Love you. So very much.” He let his breath out slowly. “Be your brother? I wish I could be, small fry. But your dad and I have troubles with each other.”

“I know. I’m sorry I caused you and Pops to get into a fight.”

“That wasn’t your fault. There’s something else wrong between us.”

“I don’t think you meant to hurt my sister!”

“It’s more than that now, baby. He and I don’t see eye to eye. Some people just can’t get along together. And there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

“Except you and him.”

“No, we can‘t.”

“You could try! He’s not nice like he used to be. He says I’m not nice, either. He gets mad real easy, too. Sometimes, he won’t even talk. But I can tell he’s real sad about something. Maybe you could help change him back to the way he used to be. You’re the only one who can.”

“It wouldn’t do any good, honey. We’d only fight again.”

“I think he doesn’t want to fight with you anymore, but he doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry. Bertha says it takes two people to make a quarrel and two to unmake it. Maybe you could tell him you’re sorry. That would make it easier for him to say he was wrong, too.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, small fry. You just don’t understand….”

“I understand that two people I love don’t get along with each other!” She cooled. “And I wish they would.”

He smiled at her fondly. “You’re really something, you know it? Your old man doesn’t know what a loyal little tiger he’s got. So you want to help him, huh? Know what you cold do? Don’t act like a monster around him. Now, don’t shake your head at me like that. That’s what you asked me to do, wasn’t it? Be nice to him? Don’t you think he’d like to know that his little girl is on his side, too?”

She studied the sheet she was pinching. “Well-l-l, I don’t know….”

“Think about it.”

“Only if you’ll do what I asked!”

“Little blackmailer, aren’t you? Tell you what, I’ll promise to be as nice to him as he is to me. Fair enough?”

At last, she nodded. Anything was better than nothing.

“Remember: no more monster tricks. You’re a little lady.” He glanced at the door. “Now, you better scoot before some nurse catches you.” He touched her hand. “And I’m really glad you like me again.”

Dodie brightened. “Want to know how much?”

Dodie hugged his chest and that hurt, but Rick hugged her right back.

“Thanks for coming to see me, baby,” he mumbled huskily.

Dodie frowned. “Pops used to call me ‘baby.’ And ‘honey,’ too. You never talked that way before. How come now?”

He grinned. “I don’t know.” Then his dramatic eyes shot her a mysterious look. “Maybe my guardian angel whispered those words to me in a dream.”

“Oh, you!”

He headed her toward the door. “Now, scoot!”

She stopped at the door. “I don’t care if you do make up stories about whispering angels to get rid of little kids like me,” she snipped pertly. “You’d still make a pretty good brother.”

“Scoot!” He grinned until she disappeared into the hall, and then he sobered. Where had he heard those terms of endearment, and why should he be using them? From Bert? No, Bert had always called him those expressions, not just recently.

Rick had told Dodie he’d heard the expressions in a dream, and he had the nagging hunch he’d told her the truth.

 

With a thrust of her mighty arm, Bertha pushed her way into Rick’s hospital room. Hal slipped in behind her, but stopped just inside the door. He craned his neck to see if Rick was better, but Rick paid him no attention.

Rick smiled faintly at Bertha as she walked toward him.

“You don’t look so sick to me today,” Bertha boomed. “I think you’re even glad to see me.”

Rick’s eyes shone with happiness. “Yes, ma’am.”

She deposited a brown paper sack on his nightstand. “That’s a thermos full of chili. The nurses said you could have it if you promised not to breathe hot fire on them.”

Rick’s smile broadened.

“Say, now, that’s a definite improvement. And I think you should know just how happy I am to see you’re getting better.” She bent and kissed his cheek.

Rick flung both of his arms around her neck and pulled her toward him.

Hal lowered his head and ducked out of the room.

 

Later, Bertha located Hal in the hospital parking lot.

“Where’d you go to so fast?” she demanded as she crawled into the prowl car. “I figured you deserted me. I thought I’d have to hitch a ride back to the house.”

“Doctor’s orders, remember? I’m supposed to stay away from Medina. Besides, it was a private moment.” Hal pulled out into traffic. “I thought you’d want to be alone.”

“Private moments, as you call them, are good only when they’re shared. I didn’t care if you were with us.”

“But he might have. I didn’t want to ruin it for either of you.”

She cocked her head at him. “You know, sometimes you make me wonder why I voted for you.”

“And I get a headache trying to figure you out sometimes. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you kiss an adult. Not even your father.”

“My father died a happy, old gentleman at eighty-seven. He was a hell bender and a womanizer from the day he turned sixteen. The only ground he ever owned was his cemetery plot. But, as far as he was concerned, the world belonged to him. He knew his worth in this world. He didn’t need kissing the way that boy in there does. Rick needs loving so badly it makes my heart ache to think about it. How his parents could go off and leave him, I’ll never understand.”

“He wouldn’t want your pity. He’s too proud for that.”

“Lord, I hope he doesn’t confuse pity and compassion!”

“How come this particular kid stirs up your concern? I remember hundreds of GI patients who’d be surprised you had any softness at all.”

“So they thought Old Iron Pants didn’t have a heart, did they? Oh, I knew they called me that, and a lot worse. But they got better with that rough treatment, too. They needed to repair their bodies; this boy needs reassurance. He needs to know that people like him. He yearns to be part of someone, and right now we’re the closest thing he has to a family. It’s almost pathetic the way he hung around our place, making us feel like gods. You can’t turn your back on feeling like that.” Her Indian eyes snapped at Hal. “At least, I, for one, can’t. Why, that boy positively bloomed around us. He just needed to be around people who’d bring him out of his shell. He’s a good person, and I wanted to let him know I like him. All he really needs is some good, old-fashioned loving. Don’t you agree?”

“It’s not a question of needing. But does he really want it?”

“From us? Of course, he does! He’s just too shy to ask, that’s all.”

“Maybe from you and the kids.” He saw Bertha open her mouth to protest, and he added quickly, “Look, I’ve been thinking about what’ll happen to him after he gets out of the hospital. If he stays around here and you think it’ll help him, you can ask him to come over to the house for visits. Maybe being around you and the kids again will pep him up, and your cooking will make him stop looking like a skeleton. He’s going to be pretty lost, with his father out of the picture and all, and maybe he’d appreciate being around something familiar.”

One of Bertha’s rare smiles spread over her square face. “Now, that’d be real nice, Hal. Maybe he could even ride with you some on patrol. And you could take him fishing. You both enjoy that.”

“He’ll be your project. Yours and the kids’. When he’s around, I won’t be.”

“But….”

“That’s the way he and I both want it.”

“You talked it over with him?”

“No. I just know, that’s all.”

“But….”

“Those terms, or none.”

Bertha stared at him. “I thought I could be hardheaded, but you sure have me beaten.”

Hal blinked. Here was yet another person to call him hardheaded. Maybe he was. But so was Medina.

“Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I have to check the Medina place. Maybe you could look around the kitchen and make sure the frig and other stuff like that is okay.”

“And while I’m at it, I’ll grab the laundry so I can do it up for him. He’ll need fresh clothes.”

“I have to look for health insurance policies, too. That kid’s going to have a lot of hospital bills to pay.”

 

Hal was quiet and preoccupied during dinner that evening. Not even the children’s chatter bothered him, and questions directed to him got only a puzzled, “Hmm?”

Gwen glanced at him several times, but Hal stared thoughtfully through her. Her eyes questioned Bertha who’d promptly look away.

Finally, Hal shoved his chair away from his half-eaten meal. “Gwen,” he said, but continued to stare at his plate.

Gwen patiently waited, but he said nothing else. At last, she asked, “Yes? Did you want something?” She touched his arm. “Uncle Hal, did you want something?”

Hal brought himself out of his reverie. “Oh. Yes. I did. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. I’d like to see you in the living room, please.”

Gwen glanced at Bertha.

“Go ahead. Dodie can help me with the dishes.”

Gwen almost wished Bertha had given her an excuse so she wouldn’t have to leave the kitchen. Whatever was on Hal’s mind must be serious, and Gwen wasn’t sure she wanted to share it.

She felt more reluctant about learning Hal’s secret as he solemnly drew an envelope out of a locked desk drawer. His actions were studied and deliberate as he fished a paper out of his envelope. For a long time, he stared at the folded page. The living room quieted so that the kitchen sounds of voices and clattering dishes floated out to Gwen and Hal.

Hal’s face looked tired and sad, and Gwen thought he sighed several times. Then he seemed to remember her and looked up.

“Bertha and I were over to Rick’s house today to make sure everything was shipshape. We straightened up the place some, and I hunted around for an accident insurance policy.”

He shook the fat envelope in his hand. “I finally found it in Rick’s desk. It’s from the company that pays Bert Medina’s pension and will cover Rick’s hospitalization. The policy was in a drawer with a lot of other important papers. Apparently, Rick was the family secretary. He paid the bills and did the banking. All of that stuff was in the drawer, too, and I had to hunt through it all.”

Gwen searched for an appropriate answer. She had no idea why this matter concerned her so much or why Hal couldn’t have spoken of it freely at the dinner table. “I’m glad Rick won’t have to worry about the hospital bill. Lucky you found the policy.”

“Oh, he would’ve remembered eventually.” Hal sank into thoughtful silence.

Gwen wanted to scream. Anything to wake him up and solve the mystery of his secret.

Hal spoke in a hushed monotone. “Just how serious were Rick and Lori?”

The question caught Gwen off-guard, and she struggled to collect her confused thoughts. She felt her mind zooming back to memories of six months ago. “Why, I don’t know. They were dating, secretly, of course. They thought it was great fun to sneak off.” Gwen caught herself. “I, I’m not even supposed to be telling this. Lori swore me to secrecy.”

“It’s all right now. She probably let you in on it because you shared the same room and you’d miss her at night. And she needed you to help cover her tracks.”

Gwen stared at her uncle in amazement. “Why, that’s right! I didn’t want to story to you, but Lori said it wouldn’t be lying if I didn’t exactly tell the truth.”

“That one! She sure knew how to twist things in her favor.” His voice reflected more sadness than pride. “I don’t blame you, Gwen. You didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

Gwen felt an immediate relief. She hadn’t realized she’d been carrying around so much guilt.

Hal laid the fat insurance policy down, but continued to hold the single sheet of paper that he’d taken from the envelope. “I found this in Rick’s desk drawer, too.” He held it out to Gwen. “Bertha was as surprised as I was.”

Gwen accepted the folded page and stared in fright at it. From the way Hal was acting, something earth shattering was written on it. With shaking hands, she unfolded the page.

It was a marriage license issued to Richard Douglas Medina and Lori Jeanette Endicott.

Gwen’s eyes shot to Hal’s face. “They were married?!”

“Apparently. He kept saying he loved her, but I never realized he meant this much. Nobody ever considered his loss.” Hal frowned. “He lost his, his wife.”

Gwen stared at the paper. “Married! My heavens, I never dreamed….”

“Look at the date. It’s the same day Lori was killed.”

“Then they were coming back here to tell us when, when….”

“That’s the way Lori would’ve wanted it. She wouldn’t have let her mother and me worry. She was a good girl.”

Poor Uncle Hal! How blind he was to Lori’s real nature.

“Maybe Rick insisted on coming back,” Gwen suggested.

“I doubt it. Unless he just wanted to wave this piece of paper in my face.”

“But why didn’t he tell us about this after the wreck? If he only wanted to hurt you, the accident wouldn’t have made any difference. He even could’ve gotten better treatment from you if you’d known he was Lori’s husband. Lori’s husband. That sounds so strange, doesn’t it?”

“I would’ve had it annulled, of course. If this paper’s legal. They were too young for marriage.”

“What if there was a baby coming?”

Hal made a choking sound. “He said he never touched her, and I believed him. I still want to believe him. If Lori had to die so young, I’d like at least to think she died pure. We’ll never know for sure, except for what he chooses to tell us. But if there was a baby, I lost a grandchild, too.”

“You think this license is phony?”

“It looks real enough. I’ve put in a call to the Justice of the Peace at Summitsville and asked him to contact me here. He should be able to straighten this out.” He returned the marriage license and Rick’s other papers to the locked drawer. “That’s what I can’t figure out. Why didn’t Rick tell us? I’ve been thinking about it all evening, and it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to hurt us.”

“That wouldn’t have made any difference to him then. We were all strangers to him.”

“Except you. He knew you.”

“Why would he want to protect me? All I ever did was hassle him.”

“Maybe he did it because you’re Lori’s father. After all, that marriage license does make Rick your son-in-law. But whatever the reason for him protecting you, he’s done it twice now.”

“Twice?”

“The other day when I visited him in the hospital, he begged me to stop you from looking for his father. Rick was afraid you’d get hurt.”

Hal knitted his brows and said nothing.

A few minutes later, the phone rang and Hal answered. “Yes, operator, I’ll accept the charges. Hello? Summitsville? Yes, this is Sheriff Hal Endicott over in Carroll County. Thanks for returning my call. I’m checking on a marriage I think you performed last August twenty-sixth. Lori Endicott and Rick, Richard, Medina. Yes. I’ll hold.” He held his hand over the mouthpiece. “He’s checking his records.” Hal quietly fiddled with some pencils on the desk, and then looked up sharply. “Yes, I’m still here. They did? Are you sure? Can you remember them? She didn’t? He did? You’re sure? What? What did you say about the car?” Hal was quiet for long moments. “Yes, I’m still here. Thank, thank you very much.” He cradled the phone and stared at it.

“What did he say?”

“Hmm?”

“What did the Justice of the Peace say?”

“Oh, he married them all right. He remembers Rick’s car. And you were right. Lori didn’t want to come home, but Rick insisted. She was even mad at him until Rick reminded her of how angry I was going to be when I found out. He thought I should learn about the wedding from them. Then the J.P. said she got a ‘satisfied glimmer’ in her eyes and agreed with Rick. The J.P. said he’d never seen a look like that on the face of any bride he’d ever married. Happy, nervous, scared, but never that look of almost revenge.”

“What did the guy say about Honeysuckle Rose.”

The sheriff’s face hardened. “He especially remembered that bright yellow car. And the fact that Rick badly sprained his right ankle running out to it after the ceremony.”

“Sprained his ankle? I thought he hurt that in the wreck.”

“Apparently not.”

“But how could he drive with his right ankle sprained?”

Hal could barely speak. “The J.P. told me that, when they left that night, Lori, Lori was driving.”

“Then Lori must’ve been driving when they got back here.” The full impact hit Gwen, and she gasped softly. “Oh!”

“That’s right.” Pure misery reflected in Hal’s eyes. “It was Lori I chased that night, Lori I forced off the road. God, I killed my own daughter!”

“Oh, Uncle Hal!”

“I was so obsessed with catching Rick’s car that I, I forgot that someone could get hurt. And I paid for that mistake with Lori’s life.”

“But you were only doing your job.”

Hal smirked. How often he’d given Rick that same excuse! And how hollow it sounded now.

“Maybe. And maybe I was using that badge to fight my own private war. I wasn’t much of a professional lawman that night.” He reached for the star on his chest. “Maybe I don’t deserve to wear this badge anymore, either.”

She clamped her hand over his. “Stop! That would be a crime, and it wouldn’t solve anything. One mistake shouldn’t end a brilliant career like yours. You’re a good man and a good sheriff.” She rubbed his knuckles. “I can feel your heart beating through your hand. That badge is right over your heart, right where it should be. We need a man with your compassion to be sheriff. The night Lori got killed, you were thinking like a father. And you were all those Saturday nights Rick rode with you. You couldn’t be impersonal. You had to feel anger toward him. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You were only being human.”

George’s speech about Hal being lesser than the gods echoed in his ears, and he finally accepted that he was.

Hal patted his badge and smiled. “Only a bad election will take this off my chest, never me.”

Gwen hugged him and gave him the kiss he deserved.

“Well,” she said, “at least we know why Rick didn’t tell you about the marriage. You would’ve checked with the J.P. and found out Lori had been driving. Rick must’ve been trying to save you from that added blow after her death. You might’ve tried resigning then, too, and not listened to reason in your grief.”

“What difference did it make to him if I got hurt? I hadn’t been very nice to him. Chasing his car. Mean-mouthing him. Not letting him date Lori.”

“Maybe not, but you’d always been fair. Even after her death. That is, up until recently.”

“That’s twice I’ve heard that today.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. It’s starting to make sense.”

 

It was very late in the night. Hours before, the town watch had tapped on the office door to see if the jail’s lights had accidentally been left on. They hadn’t.

Soon, the citizens of Beardsley would be rising for church. But not Hal Endicott. He already sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office. In fact, he hadn’t been to bed that night at all. He hadn’t slept well since finding Rick and Lori’s marriage license several days before. The question of his relationship to Rick had been nettling him ever since.

Hal sat staring at a small pile of objects before him. There weren’t many articles, but he’d studied them ever since he’d gone off duty at midnight. Not that they were strange to him. He knew ever line of their shapes, every touch of their textures, every weight of their masses, every familiar marking. A casual glance would’ve supplied as much information. But what he sought to learn in his long hours of solitary research was what the objects really meant to him.

It’d been two weeks since Rick had ridden patrol with George, but Hal hadn’t really missed Rick until this Saturday. Last Saturday had been a whirl of stomach pain and grief over their last argument in the hospital.

A deep anger surrounded Rick, barring Hal. It was as if all the love between them, the love that Hal had used as a bridge to bring Rick back from the land of Death, had been reversed with consciousness and had been changed into a galling and somber hatred. Each emotion was as strong as the other, and both held Hal in awe as they had the night of the fight about Lori.

Perhaps Rick was protecting himself from more heartache, as Gwen suggested. Perhaps he did want Hal’s friendship. If that were true, though, why couldn’t he at least be amiable? Hal still smarted from that last painful hospital battle.

Hal stared wearily at the objects lying on his desk: Lori’s picture, Rick and Lori’s wedding license, and his own badge. Somehow, they could be reconciled. But Hal looked at them and saw only conflict.

He glimpsed at the photo. Lori! His beautiful daughter. The daughter he had not known. Yes, now he could admit that. He’d doted on her, spoiled her, but had not listened to her or given her what she really needed: understanding. Was that what she’d found with Rick? Had she really loved him? Enough to marry him? Surely, she had, or she’d never run off with him. Hal thought Lori couldn’t have had any interest in Rick outside of his car. Rick didn’t seem flashy enough for her. But maybe she’d admired the real Rick. Rick with his compassion, his insight, and his empathy would have nourished her after she’d been superficially attracted by his moodiness and solitude.

Hal chided himself for failing Lori. The only thought that comforted him was that she’d found some tranquility with Rick.

Rick! Why hadn’t Hal realized his worth before emotions and events had pried a wedge between them? Why hadn’t he realized how much at ease he felt with Rick and how much he actually enjoyed the boy’s company? Now, it was too late. Even if Rick loved him, as Hal and Gwen suspected, pride would stand between them.

And what was that wedge, that symbol of pride, which had always kept them apart? Hal’s badge. His seven-pointed, ounces-light, metallic star. A simple thing, really, he thought as he revolved the sharp points on his fingers, leaving little pock marks in his dimpled flesh. Simple, and yet, how deadly! It kept him from Rick’s affection.

Hal drew back his arm to sling the star in a distant corner, but stopped when he remembered his promise to Gwen. He lowered his arm and stared at the small object twinkling in his big paw. A hunk of metal hadn’t caused his failure with Rick. The star merely represented his devotion to the law. Rick had been right. Hal had hidden behind the law so he wouldn’t have to deal with people. It all came down to whether Hal had the guts to face Rick and fight for the boy’s affection. Could Hal chance the hurt of not having his feelings returned?

“I, can’t. I, can’t.” Hal squeezed the badge until the sharp points sliced into his palm. Bitter tears seeped around his closed eyelids. He would’ve bellowed his anguish, but he knew that wouldn’t relieve his pain.

His only remedy was courage. But the source of that courage didn’t exist. Hal was frightened. Frightened as he’d been when he’d been taken prisoner in Korea. Frightened as when he’d delivered his wife to an insane asylum. Frightened as when he’d realized how many people, besides his own children, depended on him. Why did he have to be the brave one? Why did he have to go into the depths of his soul and heart to summons a bluff that would disguise his own fear?

But memories haunted him, memories that broke his concentration, memories he couldn’t shake, memories of Rick. Kneeling in prayer on a deserted road. Sharing a restless night after seeing a bad accident. Laughing over a dead steer. Saving Gwen’s reputation. Eating chocolate cake. And the bad times were remembered, too. Lori’s death in a freshly plowed field. A drunken Bert hitting Rick at the saloon and later frightening Gwen and Dodie. And the quarrel that had hurt so much. But what preoccupied Hal were moments that were unique in their commonplaceness. The unexpected sunshine of Rick’s rare, unguarded smile. His calming presence and strength that the Endicotts had grown to rely on. His presence in the squad car on Saturday nights that had meant company to Hal.

Hal wanted Rick. He wanted Rick’s friendship and companionship. He’d felt mellow and at ease with Rick. Surely, Rick had felt the same way with him. But how to knock down the wall of pride between them? He wished he knew if Rick wanted that wall destroyed, too.

Hal knew that anything worth having was worth fighting for. There seemed to be a cliché for every situation, even Hal’s reluctance. Why was he so fainthearted in dealing with Rick when the rewards could be so great?

Hal knew the answer to that one, too. If Rick rejected him, if Rick didn’t love him, he would hurt so badly. And Hal didn’t know if he could endure that added pain. Not after the tragedies involving Lori and Margo.

Lori. Margo. There had been too much loss for Hal in too short of a time. No one could blame him for insulating his heart. Any more pain could destroy him. Or make him callous. But wasn’t that what Rick had accused him of being? Callous? Hiding behind his badge?

Hal tossed the star on his desk and absently smeared the pinpoints of blood in his palm into nothingness with his other fingers. He was desperate for advice.

Then he sensed the presences of his father and Pete Rollins near him and was comforted with their concern and love. They, who had aided him so much as a youth, were never far away from him now. But Hal grew uneasy. Was he failing their faith in him? How would they have handled this problem with Rick?

The answer came as clearly as if those two long-dead men had spoken. Why, they’d act no differently than when the problem had revolved around Hal himself. They had stuck with him. They never gave up on him, no matter what craziness he pulled. How could Hal treat Rick any less?

But what if I’d killed your daughter, Pete, Hal wondered. What if I’d killed Barbara in my fast, blue car?

Then Hal remembered, as if Pete had reminded him, that his problem with Rick had nothing to do with Lori’s death. Not anymore. That had been a mere inconvenience that had temporarily masked their real destinies. Hal was meant to guide Rick, to train him, to help him reach adulthood because there was no one else who could. Bert and Wanda Medina had failed their son, but Hal dared not. His mission was to repay Pete and his father by helping Rick. It was a gift that was passed on and shared, not one that could be kept to oneself and savored in private. Hal had failed Lori, but he had a second chance with Rick. He dared not blow it.

And now Hal even understood his reluctance and his lack of courage. He was afraid he’d fail Rick, just as he’d failed him the night of the fight. And after finally recognizing his problem, his enemy, Hal could challenge it. At least, he’d try. Rick was worth fighting for. Hal would talk to D.L. Farley. He’d repay his debt.

There were only two things that would stop his goal: his own hesitation and Rick’s refusal. He’d deal with them as they came.

Hal curled up on a bunk in one of the cells and pulled a thin jail blanket over him. But it was enough. Now that he’d found some answers, he could sleep soundly.


	23. Rick and Hal

Tiny colored bulbs twinkled gaily on a small artificial Christmas tree standing on the receptionist’s desk of the Beardsley hospital. A rope of silver tinsel framed that sanctuary, and carols wafted gently through the intercom. The Christmas season was in full swing. 

Just inside the hospital’s main door, Hal and Gwen stood waiting near the receptionist’s desk as a practical nurse pushed Rick’s wheelchair toward them.

Gone from outside was the season’s first light trace of snow. Except for powdery clumps caught and treasured by bush roots and tough grasses, the snow had been swept away by a brisk morning breeze.

Gone, too, were the cuts and bruises from Rick’s face. He looked well-rested, well-fed, and eager to be away from the hospital.

Hal and Gwen fell into step behind the practical nurse as they went outside.

Rick grinned up at the blue sky and breathed deeply.

“It’s gotten colder, Rick, since you came into the hospital.”

“Feels just great to me, Mrs. Holmes. Just great. Nothing bad about anybody here, but I‘m glad to be getting out.”

“That’s as it should be, Rick. I don’t blame you one bit.”

They smiled, and it was obvious that they liked each other.

Holmes wheeled Rick to where the squad car stood waiting at the curb.

“Is this your taxi, Rick?”

Rick grinned. “Yes, ma’am. It certainly looks that way.”

“Well, a lot of patients come in this way, but this is the first time I’ve seen one leaving in a cruiser. All right, now, time to get you out of this iron chariot.”

Hal took Rick’s duffel bag out of his lap as the nurse helped Rick to stand, and then she left with a cheerful farewell.

“How do you feel today, Rick?” Gwen asked as Hal went to open the car door and stow away the duffel bag.

Rick touched his sore ribs. “A little stiff. Thanks for coming to see me out.”

“I expect you’re glad to get away from here.”

With twinkling eyes, Rick grinned as he squinted into the clear blue sky again. “I sure am, Gwen.” He even felt amiable toward Hal. “Guess I’m out on good behavior. Where’s Casey?” he nodded toward the squad. “I thought he might be out here.”

“We can talk later,” Hal answered. “Right now, you have to get out of the cold.”

“I’m not leaving until I find out about my brother!”

Hal tightened his lips together. “The Navy couldn’t tell me. He went AWOL last month. They have no idea where he is.”

Rick’s face fell, and then he smirked. “Strike three. First Mom, then the old man, now Casey. Well, I guess I’ll have to bum a ride over to my place if you’re going that way.”  
Hal shut the car door and walked around the cruiser. “Sorry, kid. You can’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“The landlord took over the house for nonpayment of rent. He’s holding your furniture in lieu of the money.”

“The creep!”

“Look, we can talk this over at my place….”

“Not until I find a few things out!”

Hal’s eyes flashed, but he gritted his teeth. “Go back into the hospital where it’s warmer. I’ll move the squad and be right back in.”

The receptionist frowned when she saw Rick. “Is something wrong, Mr. Medina?”

“No. We’re just waiting.”

“You should sit down, Rick,” Gwen said. “You’re still shaky.”

He did, and that’s where Hal found him and Gwen a few minutes later. Hal sat in a chair facing them.

“Your clothes are over at our place. Bertha wanted to get them cleaned up for you. Your furniture and household goods are locked in the house. They’ll be safe enough until you can decide what to do.”

“Might as well sell it and get Old Man Jessup off my back. There should be enough left for spending money, too.”

“That wouldn’t last very long. Besides, don‘t you want to keep your bedroom furniture?”

“How? Where would I go with it?”

“In our basement for awhile.”

“I should maybe sleep down there?”

“There’s not enough room to live. Just to store a few things.”

“Then, where am I supposed to go?“ Rick brightened. “Hey, maybe I can join the Navy myself! Make it a family affair! My dad, Casey, and me! All anchor clankers!”

“You can’t,” Hal said. “You need permission before you can do anything like that. After you’re eighteen, you can do what you want. But until then, you can‘t.”

“You’re still my guardian, aren’t you? Well, sign a paper and let me go.”

Hal shook his head. “I won’t do that. And the court agrees with me.”

“Even if that’s what I want to do?”

“That’s right. You’re too young to go into the Service.”

“But think of it! I’d be out of your hair for good.”

“But it wouldn’t be the best choice for you.”

“What if I go to the Navy, anyway?”

“Then you’ll be a teenage runaway, and the Navy will send you back to me. You’ll just have to wait.”

“What the hell do I do in the meantime?!”

Hal saw the receptionist look in their direction. “Shh! Pipe down. This is a hospital. You have to be quiet in here.”

“I’d really like to know, man. After all, I do have a small interest in the matter, you know. Where the hell DO I go from here?! An orphanage?”

“You’re too old for that. You could go to a privately run boarding house in Victorsville, but I saw the place yesterday. It’s about as homey and personal as an Army barracks. Besides, you should stay here in Beardsley and get your high school diploma before doing anything else. Then you’ll be able to get a decent job. Maybe even more schooling. The more schooling you get, the better you will be set up in life. Until then, it‘s high school for you.”

“So I’m a prisoner of this county, huh? If I leave town, I’ll be a runaway and a fugitive. Then you’ll get a pack of bloodhounds on my trail and drag me back.”

“Running away won’t help. You’re smart enough to know that trouble will follow you to another town. Your best bet is to stay here and graduate.”

“And where do I live while I’m earning this magical diploma? In the school gym? Or maybe the teachers would just pass me around and care for me out of the kindness of their generous hearts. After all, they all think so much of me.”

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of cotton heads up at that school, but some of the teachers are really concerned about you. Velma Patterson and your shop teacher called me several times since you got hurt. Even Annabelle Pettigrew asked about you. There’s students and townspeople who want to help, too. They’ve started a fund at the bank and….”

“Charity?!”

“Sometimes you have to let people help you.”

“But, charity?!”

The receptionist looked at them again.

“We’ll discuss it later. I’ve talked to Judge Farley, and we think we’ve got an arrangement for you. Of course, you’d be under the jurisdiction of this court. But you could….”

“How would YOU like to be under the jurisdiction of a COURT? Sounds real homey, doesn’t it!”

“Let me finish.” Hal took a deep breath. “Look, there’s a way you could belong to a family again. The court will let you stay in a foster home.”

Rick’s eyes blazed and his mouth trembled. “With some squares who think they’re doing their Christian duty by taking some lost lamb in out of the cold?! No thanks.” He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled when he tried to move too fast. 

Hal shot out a hand to steady him. “Watch what you’re doing! You‘ll hurt yourself again!”

Rick pulled his arm away. “I don’t need any of that pious pity, from you or those other people. I’d rather be in that boarding house in Victorsville. Then I wouldn’t have to lick hands and say ‘pretty, please’ to get my supper!”

Hal stood up, too. “Look, kid, it wouldn’t be charity. The county will pay the family for keeping you.”

Rick shuddered. “My God, that’s worse! Sold!” he choked. “Sold to the highest bidder!”

“No….”

Rick ducked his head and hobbled blindly down the hall.

Gwen touched Hal’s arm when she reached his side.

Hal bit his lips together. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to say that right. But, doggone it, Gwen, he didn’t give me a chance.”

“I know. You explained it about as well as anybody could. But he’s hurt and afraid and feeling like an outsider. I know that feeling. It’s awful.”

“I better find him. He’ll be getting tired.”

“Wait. I’ll try talking to him. Maybe he’ll listen to me. Maybe not. Since his family’s deserted him, he doesn’t want to trust anybody.”

“Especially me. To him, I’m just the sheriff, the law.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked softly.

“I want what’s best for him. He shouldn’t wind up with no job and no future. His welfare’s the most important thing now.”

“Does that mean you’re not holding me to my promise?”

Hal let his breath out noisily. “That promise wasn’t fair to anybody. I was hiding behind it, but my pride isn’t important anymore. Just remember that even if you do help him remember what happened that day in his hospital room, it might not make any difference to him. He might not be interested.”

“I think he’ll be interested when he learns that we care about what happens to him.”

“Well, he deserves a chance. And if that chance depends on me, then I’ll willing to help him. But I don’t want him thinking he owes me anything. It should be clear and free decision.”

She patted his hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

In a small waiting room near the surgery, Gwen found Rick, angry and alone, staring out the window at the squad car in the parking lot.

“Rick….”

“Go away! I don’t want any more of your pity, either.”

“You didn’t let Uncle Hal finish. You could live with us. We’re the family that wants you, and not because of the money from the county, either.”

Pure pleasure shone briefly in Rick’s eyes, but he doused it with scorn. “Live with you?! Boy, your uncle would sure like that.”

“That’s right. He would. He’s the one who suggested it.”

“He, what?! Him?! No way! Oh, no! No way! He couldn’t have said that.”

“But it’s true. He talked to Judge Farley, and it’s all set. That is, unless you don’t agree.”

“Well, I don’t agree! He doesn’t want me in his way. Hell, he doesn’t even know my name. Just calls me Medina, or kid, or worse.”

“Surely you know by now that Uncle Hal isn’t as gruff as he acts. He really wants to offer you a home with us, Rick.”

“If that’s true, why didn’t he say anything a minute ago?”

“Because he was scared.”

“Him? Scared? Of me?”

“Scared you wouldn’t understand. Scared you’d blow up like you did.”

“Why would he want to do anything for me?”

“For one thing, he found the license and knows that you and Lori were married. Wait! Don’t run off again. Why didn’t you tell us about the marriage?”

“What good would it have done? He didn’t need to know that his daughter had been married to the town hood.”

“But why didn’t you gloat about it? Winning his daughter should’ve been quite a triumph.”

“Because it was more than a victory over him. I really loved her. I really loved her.” He bit his lips together. “Did I say loved? I worshipped her. It made no difference if she didn’t….” He shaded his eyes with his hand.

“Rick, what is it? What’s wrong? What didn’t Lori do?”

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t tell.”

“Stop protecting her! Help yourself. Tell me the truth.”

Rick pulled his head back and sighed, and then the words formed themselves without his will.

“I’ve always been a misfit, especially here. Honeysuckle Rose was the only thing that made me special. The kids respected my driving, even if they wouldn’t have anything to do with me personally. Then this dark haired angel started flirting with me. She was pretty and quick talking and seemed to have everybody eating out of her hand. I thought it was something that the sheriff’s daughter would even look at me, let alone be interested in me. She said she liked the way I stood up to her father. I could tell that she was impressed by that. But I didn’t care what her reason was, I wanted to be with her. At last, I had a friend.”

“And she sneaked out at night to meet you?”

“Yes. I knew Lori was probably defying her father to date me, and that made the game more fun. He couldn’t beat my car, and I was stealing his daughter right out from under his nose. But he intrigued me, too. He played fair, and I didn’t know cops could be that way. He talked to me, tried to get me to slow down, and gave me warnings instead of hauling me into jail. Lori had a great father, even if he was the law. He didn’t start mean-mouthing me until I asked him if I could date Lori. Of course, he said no. But I still didn’t consider him an enemy. I think Lori resented my growing respect for him. Maybe she was even a little jealous of him. Anyway, she went out of her way to make me feel special. She was a fairy princess trapped in a tower by her ogre of a father, and I was a romantic highwayman come to rescue her. Nobody had ever come on to me like that before. Nobody. Then I fell for Lori hard, and I didn’t care if her old man was sheriff of the whole damned state. I was lost and not eager to be found.”

“With her charm, she could generally get what she wanted. And she wanted the misfit who irritated her father, simply because you did irritate him.”

“But I hadn’t realized that yet. I told Lori how I felt and asked her to marry me as soon as got out of school. She agreed, but said she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to get married immediately. Who was I to argue? I was still dazed by her acceptance. So, we eloped across the county line and headed home to tell our folks. I knew her father would give us a lot of static, but I didn’t care. I was the happiest guy in the world.”

“But Lori wanted to leave Beardsley after graduation. Why should she marry you?”

Rick’s face clouded. “It was only on the way back that I learned she planned to rub that marriage license in her father’s face. She married me for a joke just so she could get back at him. He’d been trying to straighten her out, and she resented it. He wouldn’t buy her some clothes she’d been wanting. She thought her marriage to me would really be a low blow to him. I couldn’t believe she’d do something that rotten to either of us. We both loved her.”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell Uncle Hal.”

“How could I? It sickened me the way she tricked me and planned to hurt him. She was spoiled by her mother and didn’t know how lucky she was to have a father who really cared what happened to her. I told her so and she laughed. She hadn’t loved me at all. She’d used me to hurt him just like she’d used him to get expensive clothes out of his small salary. It really hit me hard. She was the one person I’d learned to like in this town. I didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because the sheriff came up behind us. Then my car crashed, and Lori was lying there dead. And all I could think of was that I’d loved her. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t returned that love. Then your uncle was there, blaming me and taking Lori’s death so hard. I felt sorry for him. And I realized then that I liked him a little bit, too, after all those times he tried to straighten me out. I couldn’t tell him about the marriage. That would’ve only accomplished what Lori had planned. And I couldn’t hurt anybody that way, especially him. He doesn’t suspect, does he, about Lori‘s plan to hurt him?”

“No, but you have to tell him the truth.”

“Never!”

“But he thinks you two got married because Lori was pregnant.”

“What?! I told him I didn’t touch her!”

“He wants to believe that, too. Rick, you and I both know what Lori was really like. To Uncle Hal, though, she was perfect. But he must be told differently now! The truth will hurt him, but not as much as thinking he killed his grandchild, too.”

“Too?”

“He knows that Lori was driving at the time of the accident. The JP that married you told him that Lori was driving when you left because you‘d hurt your ankle.”

Rick blanched. “He knows she was the one he forced off the road?”

“That’s why we thought you didn’t tell us about the marriage.”

“He didn’t need to know about either one.”

“Why did she run from him?”

“When Lori saw him behind us, she decided she was really going to have some fun. I begged her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen. She was defying him again. It was a game to her, but her luck ran out when that tire blew on Dead Man’s Curve.”

“Tell him! Why protect Lori at your own expense?”

“I guess I’m protecting him as much as her. He loved her, and the truth would only hurt him, no matter what I say. He’s suffered enough over that wreck, and he deserves better. He’s not such a bad guy when you get to know him.”

“I wish he knew you felt that way.”

“Why?”

“I’ve told you before that he doesn’t hold Lori’s death against you anymore, and he doesn’t. Now, he’s afraid you won’t have anything to do with him.”

“Why should he think that?”

“Because of the way he’s treated you since Lori’s accident. Rick, Uncle Hal feels more than responsibility toward you. And he changed his mind long before he learned of your marriage. It’s not only Lori’s husband he wants to help, it’s you.”

“That’s all a little hard to believe. The last I heard, he hated my guts. Besides, we don’t get along too well.”

“So we’re back to Square One, are we? I can understand your reluctance to trust him again, but I don’t agree with it.” She saw the defiance on his face, yet the hurt and hopelessness shone through, too. Rick needed help. Gwen made a decision. “No, we aren’t. We can never go back to Square One again.”

“Huh?”

“He talked you back, Rick.”

Rick frowned. “What do you mean, he talked me back?”

“After you were beaten and hospitalized, you wouldn’t wake up. Nobody could bring you out of your stupor. I even tried yelling at you, but you couldn’t hear me. We didn’t know what to do. You were going to die.”

“Die?!” Rick remembered Dodie saying something about his being unconscious so long, but he hadn’t realized he’d been in such great danger.

“Then you moved when Uncle Hal spoke to you, so he tried. He told you that he was sorry about your getting hurt. He tried to explain about Lori. The longer he talked, the more you woke up. And then you got thirsty.”

“Wait a minute.” Rick wrinkled his brow in thought. “I remember a dream. I was in a desert, burning up, and your uncle wouldn’t let me have a drink of water. He was talking a mile a minute, being nice and mean all at once. Then a veil seemed to lift, and he gave me some water. It was so strange, yet so real. He was crying. I reached up and felt the tears on his face. He looked so sad. And he was holding me.”

“It was no dream, Rick. It happened. I was there. He couldn’t let you have the water because you were semiconscious and it might’ve choked. He irritated you enough to wake you up.”

“I remember now! I woke up and he was with me. And I felt safe, safer than I had in years. I remember feeling happy that he was there and sorry, too, about being wrong about him. We’d fought and bickered and gotten on each other’s nerves for weeks, but all of that was forgotten now. Funny, nothing else seemed to matter, because I knew he wasn’t mad at me anymore. I wanted to curl up in his arms and go to sleep.”

“You did. And that really made him feel guilty. You trusted him and he felt like he’d let you down. Uncle Hal’s gone through ten kinds of hell while you’ve been in the hospital. He felt responsible for your lying injured so long at your house when you could’ve called us for help. He, he told me why you didn’t. And he’s felt terrible, just terrible ever since we found you.”

Warm feeling flowed over Rick, but he fought it away with cynicism. “So the Sheriff of Carroll County saved my life, eh? Once again, law and order have triumphed! The trusty officer saw what was expected of him, and he performed his duty like a professional lawman.”

“That kind of talk isn’t necessary, Rick. You don’t have to act like a punk around me.”

Rick lowered his head.

“It wasn’t the Sheriff of Carroll County you came back to, Rick. You tried to get away from him. But you sure came back to Uncle Hal. There has to be a pretty good reason for that, don’t you think?”

Rick looked defeated. “There is. I wanted him to like me. Even from the first, when I was so scared of him. I wanted a father just like him. Maybe I even idolized him. Then I learned to like him for himself. Can you believe that? I fought it, but I only felt alive around him. He’d sure think that was funny, wouldn’t he?”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’s done some odd reasoning himself. Ever since he did it, he didn’t want you to know that he talked you back.”

“Why not?”

“He thought it’d embarrass both of you. He was even afraid you’d make fun of him.”

“How rotten does he think I am?!”

“He had reason to be cautious, and you know it. There was the fight, for starters. So many bad things had happened that you really can’t blame him. He made me promise not to tell about helping you. Only a few minutes ago did he lift that promise. And only then so that he might help you again. Those Saturday night patrols really paid off, better than Judge Farley could’ve hoped for. How come?”

“After I started riding with your uncle, I understood him. He seemed to take an interest in me, in spite of all of his grumbling. Somebody actually expected something out of me. He set his standards high, and I busted my tail to please him. I would’ve tried anything for him.”

“So that’s why he, and only he, could reach you through whatever fog you were in. Rick, he virtually held your life in his hands that afternoon in your hospital room, and I think it scared him a little. He wants to protect that life he helped to save.”

“You’re forgetting something! He’s the one who told me to get lost.”

“He knows he was wrong to say that, just as he was wrong to hound you about Lori‘s death. He was upset that night of the fight and said things he didn’t really mean. You both did. If you like him at all, give him another chance. Let him help you.”

Rick smirked. “So my dear old daddy-in-law wants me to be part of his family, eh?”

“Please don’t act that way. I know you feel defensive and you’re reluctant to trust us. But we are sincere and, I guess, a little selfish. We need you, too.”

The rush of warmth pleased, but embarrassed him, too. “Now you’re talking craziness and guff!”

“You know our family, Rick. You know how separated we all are. When you were with us, though, you helped to pull us together. Help us again.”

“And I’m supposed to perform all these miracles? How?”

“By being with us and giving Uncle Hal peace of mind. If he settled down, we all would. He’s missed you an awful lot.”

“Yeah, about as much as any other legal matter he has to take care of.”

“He’s missed you personally, and it upset him. I think he didn’t figure that would happen. Ever since Dodie’s bike accident, though, he’s been short-tempered and gloomy and acting as if something were eating on him. And the only thing that’s changed is that you haven’t been coming around anymore. He’s been plain miserable. Don’t you realize why you can disturb him that much?”

A muscle worked in Rick’s cheek. “He has to say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m welcome in his house.”

“Why do you need to hear that?”

“I’d like to know that I’m as important to him as you say I am. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. He’s been mean to me, and I want to make sure this isn’t something you’ve dreamed up.”

“Don’t make him do that, Rick. My uncle is a proud man, and life’s been pretty rough on him. Don’t humiliate him.”

“But he’s always throwing his weight around….”

“That’s only his way. It looks like you, of all people, could understand that. You’re rather arrogant yourself.”

“Maybe I’ve needed to be.”

“I know your life hasn’t been easy. Neither has mine. That’s why we can appreciate all that he’s done for us. Uncle Hal’s a good man, and he needs our support now.”

“Well, he could ask,” Rick mumbled.

“Sometimes, a person can’t say what’s in his heart. It’s up to us to know what he really means.”

“It’d be nice to hear, that’s all,” Rick grumbled.

“I know. But try to meet him more than half way. Please? I know you could if you really wanted to. Just let it happen.”

He didn’t answer, but took the hand she offered.

 

Gwen and Rick found Hal waiting at the main door. He seemed relieved to see them as he walked toward them. Gwen squeezed Rick’s hand, then dropped it. Rick stole a quick glance at her, then breathed deeply as he faced Hal.

“Uh, Gwen says there’s a foster home that’s already offered to take me in.”

“That’s right.” Hal drew himself up and became businesslike. “Of course, there’s rules.”

Rick smirked at Gwen. “I figured as much.”

“Church on Sunday. No drinking. No smoking. Helping with the chores.”

“So, what else is new?”

“Helping Bertha with the garbage. Babysitting with Randy. Teaching Dodie to ride that confounded bike.”

Rick cocked his head. “I thought you said….”

“Hell, I can’t teach her anything! She won’t listen to me.”

“And you think she’d listen to me?” A smile tugged around the corners of Rick’s mouth because he knew she would, but he couldn’t quite let Hal in on his and Dodie’s secret. Not yet. “She’ll probably bite my head off.”

“You’ll have to take your chances. Nobody’s been able to do a thing with her since you left. She’s been a regular little bear up until a few days ago. Heaven only knows how long that’ll last, though. I don’t have the time or patience to teach her. Besides, she might as well learn from someone who’s a good driver. You’ve always handled the squad well.”

Rick accepted that compliment for what it was worth and let it pass, but he also realized that Hal was seriously trying to get him to stay.

“What’s the other chores around this slammer?”

“George is getting old. He doesn’t like night patrol. You might have to take his place.”

Rick lifted an eyebrow. “Just so the flatfoot I’m riding with doesn’t talk down to me all the time.”

“He can’t, if you’re by yourself. You’ll be on patrol with me only in the evenings. Otherwise, you can drive around by yourself. A kid your age, especially a boy, should have his own wheels.”

“How can I ride by myself? I don’t have any car.”

“Ed Tully’s got a secondhand heap he’ll sell us cheap. I thought we could overhaul it on Saturdays. I wouldn’t be much help at first, outside of handing you Phillips screwdrivers and pressing starter buttons, but I learn fast. And Dodie and Randy would probably be there with all sorts of help and advice. With all of us working, we should be able to get that old car going again eventually. That is, if you’re interested.”

Rick stared, open-mouthed. He could feel his cockiness draining away. Lighthearted banter seemed out of place.

“You’d do that? Too? After, after what happened to Lori?”

“We both killed Lori. We can’t forget that, but we can live with it. She was a headstrong girl, just like Dodie is. Maybe I can do a better job of raising Dodie now, since I realize the mistakes I made with Lori. Lori’s gone. But we both loved her. Maybe we can build better lives for ourselves in memory of her.”

Rick felt trapped. Hal had apparently been doing a lot of thinking and now had a lot of answers. Rick wasn’t prepared for such considerate treatment. He knew it was wrong, but he felt defensive and baited Hal. “So, that’s why you’re taking me in, huh?” Rick saw Gwen shake her head at him, but he ignored her. “Because the girl I loved got killed? Because I got beaten up, and you feel guilty about it?”

“Partly.”

“I thought so.”

“I said partly. I guess I’m sort of used to having you around. I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to explain why I’ve been so pig-headed.”

Rick had heard this somewhere before, somewhere in a dream. He got the impression of feeling safe in someone’s arms and of a soft voice encouraging him to live. And he realized what Gwen had told him was true. He knew now that the arms and voice had belonged to Hal. Hal, who couldn’t quite come out and say what he really felt, but felt it just the same. Hal, whom Rick had been protecting all along and didn’t know why. Now, he knew why.

“What do you say, kid? Do you really want to stay at a private boarding house where no one will bother you or include you, or in our home with people who like and need you? It won’t be a picnic at our place, but I’ll guarantee you’ll feel like you belong there.” Hal paused. 

“Hell, kid, just think what we can do with that car. Mag wheels. Custom motor. Bright paint.” He paused again. “Anything you want, Rick. Anything. Just give me another chance. Okay? I know it’s me you’ve got your beef with, not my family. It’s been you and me from the start, hasn’t it? Meeting my family just speeded things along a little, that’s all. If you hadn’t met them, as Dodie told me once, then I would’ve been the only one with the problem. Because I would’ve liked you, no matter what.” Hal saw Rick bend his head even lower. 

“But that went against my grain. I didn’t want to know that there was something more to you than a smart lip. I didn’t want to admit that I forgot Lori’s death and enjoyed your company on Saturday nights. I even tried to treat you like any other part of my job, but that didn’t work, either. You wanted to be someone special to me. Well, you are.” 

He saw Rick shift his weight nervously. “I couldn’t handle that at first, because I felt disloyal to Lori. But our lives now are important, too. Death can’t be allowed to rule life. We have to grab at happiness, but it sure won’t be handed to us. I’ve missed you like hell, and I want you back, full time.” He saw Rick’s face redden. “We’ll probably get along like clawing bobcats over a rabbit hide, because you’re not used to anyone telling you what to do. And I’ll be treating you like you were one of my own. I’ll expect you to toe the line. I’ll be rougher on you than your father or your teachers ever were. But I’ll try to be fair.” 

Hal squinted at Rick. “So how does it sound? The family, the freshly painted car, the heavy-fisted old man?”

Hal’s words were harsh and clipped, and his manner was brusque. But when Rick glanced up, he saw that the sheriff’s eyes were pleading and sincere. All semblance of Hal’s pride had disappeared. Hal was begging, just as Rick had wanted.

Rick wished he’d shut up.

“No yellow paint,” Rick mumbled. “There was only one Honeysuckle Rose.”

Hal relaxed. “I’d thought of blue. For My Blue Heaven.”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “Man, that’s corny. My Blue Heaven.”

“Don’t laugh. That’s what I called my jalopy in high school.”

Rick frowned at him. “You did? You had a jalopy? That’s hard to believe.”

“Kids haven’t changed that much in thirty years. Maybe that’s what D.L. Farley was trying to get me to realized. Thirty years back, I was just like today’s kids: rough, rowdy, wouldn’t listen to anyone. Guess I kinda forgot about that after all this time, or why I was that way. But I was a hell bender, you can bank on that. Tried everything they were pulling back then, and then some. The cops were always after me. Pete Rollins, the sheriff back then, had one hell of a time trying to tame me down.”

“You?! That’s pretty hard to believe, too.”

“Well, it’s true. I’ve tried to forget it, though. It’s something a person doesn’t brag about. But, the truth is, I was downright ornery. I might’ve wound up in real bad trouble, prison, even, but my father finally laid down the law. He and Pete sat on me hard. I thought I couldn’t breathe, but they made a man out of me.” 

He rested his hands on his gun belt. “I owe them a lot and now I’m going to repay that debt the way I know they would’ve wanted me to. I’m not your father, but I think you’re worth helping. I know I’ve said differently, but I was wrong. You didn’t think I could say I was wrong, did you? Well, I can. And there’s other things I can say now, too. You’ve changed some already, and I know you’ve changed me and my family. They all want you to stay with us, and so do I.”

Rick bit his lips together. 

“But don’t misunderstand me. No matter how many people are around, it still comes down to you and me. I know from experience that you can be just as stubborn as me, too. It won’t be easy for either of us, but I won’t back out on you. I’ll be there and I’ll believe in you. That’s about all I can promise you, son. We’ll work on it hard. Together.”

Rick felt his throat squeeze shut during Hal’s speech. And when Hal called him ‘son,’ Rick had to fight the tears away. He wanted to go with Hal, but Hal’s openness embarrassed him. Because he was sometimes scorned and turned away, Rick had learned to hide tender feelings from unreceptive adults. And Hal had pushed him away, repeatedly. Rick didn’t know if he could trust Hal, but, oh, how he wanted to!

Rick didn’t want to reveal how much Hal’s words had touched him. He shrugged, hoping that a nonchalant manner would cover any emotion in his voice.

“Well, I guess I could give it a try for awhile.”

Rick could almost feel Gwen and Hal’s disappointment.

“I was hoping you’d be more interested than that,” Hal mumbled. “Maybe if I--“ He frowned. “I don’t know what else I can promise….”

“Stop it, Uncle Hal! You’re wasting your time on him!”

Hal and Rick stared at Gwen.

“He’s making a fool out of us.”

“Gwen, maybe you shouldn’t….”

“I’m getting tired of us catering to him! Everything centers on Rick, Rick and how HE feels. Well, what about the rest of us? We have feelings, too.”

“Wait, Gwen. He just got out of the hospital. His parents deserted him. He’s had a rough time.”

“And we’ve had a rough time, too! We sat here and worried, day and night, not knowing if he’d live or die. You humbled yourself and threw your pride to the wind to call him back. But that apparently doesn’t count. Just HIS feelings.”

“I didn’t know you were so tired, Gwen. But you shouldn’t take it out on Rick.”

“Yes, I’m tired. Sick and tired of him! Tired of him punishing himself. And punishing you, too. He wants to feel sorry for himself. And we’re all supposed to coddle him. Well, Life’s rough, Rick! We can’t protect you forever.”

“Gwen! That’s about enough of that. Rick’s still sick. He needs rest. And he’s going to stay at our place, no matter what you say.”

“But does he want to stay with us? Has he ever said so? We’ve been trying to please him, but has he gone out of his way to please us? He takes and takes, but has he ever given us anything?”

“Yes, he has, Gwen. He’s given us more than we deserve. We can’t get along without him. We’ve found that out since he’s been gone.”

“But he could at least say if he wants to stay with us, couldn’t he?”

Hal slowly nodded. “Of course. It wouldn’t be right to force him into doing something he didn’t want to do.” He looked at Rick. “Well?”

Rick stood speechless.

“See? He doesn’t want to be with us. Let’s go, Uncle Hal.”

“He needs help, Gwen, at least for a few days.”

“No, he doesn’t. He can get along very well by himself. He’s a loner. And that’s the way he wants to be. Come on.”

Gwen walked toward the main door, and then stopped and waited for her uncle. Hal glanced at Rick, then joined Gwen. She reached for the bar to push the door open.

Rick looked frantic. “Wait!”

Hal relaxed.

“What do you want, Rick?” Gwen asked coldly.

“My stuff is at your place.”

“We’ll box it up. Just send us an address so we can get rid of it.”

“Gwen….” Hal cautioned.

“I, I don’t know where that’ll be,” Rick said.

“Just so it’s away from us.”

Hal stared at his usually quiet niece. “Have you gone crazy?” he hissed.

“Just getting smart,” she mumbled.

“Wait a minute.” Rick hobbled toward them.

“Let’s get back from the door, kids. We’re blocking it,” he said as they stepped aside for a woman to enter. “Excuse us, ma’am,“ he apologized. “Rick, you better come over here and sit down. You look pale.”

Rick shook his head. “No. No, I’m okay.”

“We have to get this straightened out before we can go any further. Gwen, I can’t turn him loose like this. He has nowhere to go.”

“We better hear what Rick wanted to say first. Maybe he only wanted to say goodbye to us.”

“Not goodbye,” Rick whispered.

“Well?” Gwen demanded. “Have you heard enough, Rick? Did it make you feel good? You wanted Uncle Hal to beg you. Well, he did. Now, it’s your turn.”

“Gwen!” Hal thundered in shock.

She paid no attention to Hal. “Do you want to stay with us? It’s your decision. Yes, or no. You have to say it, Rick. We need to hear it, too.”

“Gwen, for Heaven’s sake! Don’t do this to him!”

“He’s not having to do anything he didn’t want you to do. I want him to beg, too. Well, Rick, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Gwen, this is insane! I don’t need to hear him demean himself.”

“Well, maybe I do, Uncle Hal. We don’t let just anybody into our family.”

“He isn’t just anybody, Gwen.”

Her tone softened. “I know that, Uncle Hal. And I want both of you to know how important this is. And you should both realize something else. Rick, when I attacked you just now, who defended you?”

Rick and Hal stared dumbly at each other.

“How much proof do you need, Rick? And there’s another thing you should realize. For weeks now, I’ve listened to you stewing about making up Lori’s death to Uncle Hal. Well, here’s your chance. Or maybe you’d like to torture him some more.”

“Gwen.” Hal sounded sick at heart.

Shame and meekness washed over Rick, and he wished someone would kick him hard. He’d been so busy protecting his own feelings that he’d carelessly trampled on theirs. Their anguish caused him greater pain than his own. He didn’t want to hurt them anymore, and he realized he could do just that, and very easily. Why he could, made his head buzz.

“No,” Rick said softly. “I can’t believe all of this. I can’t understand how it got to be this. I don’t want to hurt you. I never realized I could….” He wiped a hand over the confusion on his drawn face. “Staying with you means a great deal to me. I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t appreciate your offer. To want something so badly and to finally have it come true can really floor a guy.” He blushed. “I mean, I like the idea. There’s so much to think about all at once, though.”

“There’ll be time to get it all thrashed out, son. We’re all a little stunned. I know I am. We need to talk about your father, too.”

“I want to forget about him.”

“If that’s true, you’re not worth a damn.”

Rick looked startled.

“You see, Rick,” Gwen said with a weak smile. “Uncle Hal won’t be giving you a place to hide. You’ll have to face your problems.”

“That’ll keep till later. Right now, we better get him home and into bed.”

“Wait!” Rick said. “It’s not that I didn’t want to go with you, but I don’t deserve what you’re offering. I’ve done bad things. I egged my father into hurting me, and I egged you into arguments. And I did it knowing I’d hurt both of you. But that didn’t stop me from twisting the knife deeper. And I enjoyed doing it!”

Hal stared at him. “That’s partly his fault and mine. Rick. We should’ve paid more attention to you. You only did those things so we’d notice you. That’s why I can’t believe you when you say you want to forget him. I know damned well you don’t.”

“And I, I’m sorry I made you say all those things awhile ago. I thought that’s what I had to hear, but not now. It didn’t make me feel good at all to hear you beg.”

“Sometimes things need to be said, Rick. I’m not very good with words, but I meant everything I told you. We just want a chance to have you with us, if you‘ll just let us.”

“The truth is,” Rick mumbled through the roar in his ears, “I can’t wait to teach Dodie to ride that dumb bike.”

Gwen smiled up at her uncle.

But Hal didn’t see her. He was smiling fondly at Rick. “Thanks, son. Thanks for a second chance. I’ll try to do better this time. And thanks for giving me the courage to be more than the Sheriff of Carroll County. I didn’t realize until you pointed it out to me that I was cheating myself and others by not admitting I liked them and trusted them. That’s what gave me the courage to show up here today. I trust you, too.” 

Hal breathed deeply and looked earnest. “Just as you trusted me in your hospital room. I don’t know if Gwen told you or not that I snapped you out of a stupor, but I shouldn’t have left the telling up to her. You deserve the truth, and it sure as hell looks like you’re going to hear it before I can get you back into bed where you belong.”

They traded embarrassed half-smiles.

“I probably saved your life that day, Rick. At least, I made it worth living so you wouldn’t be a vegetable. I guess it scared me when I saw what a difference I made to you. I didn’t know if I could live up to it, but I’m willing to try. Lord only knows where feeling like yours came from, but it’s special. I feel humble before it, and ashamed. But I’m not ashamed anymore to accept it. I’m through being dishonest with you.”

Rick gulped. “Sir, about Lori. She….” He frowned. “She didn’t love me. I never touched her. We just rode around so the other kids could see her in my car. And she married me, as a hoax. But I loved her! I loved her. I didn’t know how she really felt about me until later when we were headed home from eloping. I couldn’t believe she’d do something like that.”

“I figured as much. I apologize for my daughter.”

Rick grimaced. “She meant to hurt you with that marriage license, so I didn’t, I, I couldn’t tell you, not after you’d tried to help me.”

“Thanks for being honest.”

“What else could I be after you said you trusted me?!”

“And thanks for protecting me. I’m only beginning to realize what you did for me these past months. There must’ve been times when you could’ve really blasted me with the truth, but you didn’t. How can I ever thank you?”

“By letting me be around you, sir. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. I’ll do anything you say.”

Hal fought back a smile. “First off, stop calling me ‘sir.’ Couldn’t you call me ‘Hal’ like you did in the hospital room?”

Rick blushed. “I didn’t realize I had. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! You were running from the sheriff, but you came back to me. You lived because of me. Don’t you know how that makes me feel, boy? Pretty damn good!”

Faint tears sprang into Rick’s eyes, and he turned toward the wall. All of his defenses were down, and he didn’t know how to hide from these two. But hiding wasn’t necessary, anymore. And it was such a nice feeling, not having to hide from them. But it made him feel so naked.

Gratitude replaced Rick’s shame, but he still felt meek. “I appreciate what you’re doing, taking me in like this. I don’t know where else to go….”

Hal was businesslike again. “Don’t make yourself sound like a charity case, kid. You aren’t. And you sure as hell won’t be treated like a guest, either. It’ll just be home.”

Rick squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Why didn’t Hal shut up, damn it? Why didn’t he just shut up?!

Gwen and Hal waited while Rick continued to stare at the blank wall.

“Ready?” Hal asked.

“You go ahead,” came the muffled answer. “I’ll catch up.”

“All right. Whatever you say. But we don’t mind if you cry.”

Rick’s shoulders stiffened. “Cry?! Who’s crying?!”

“You are. And there’s nothing wrong with it. I do it all the time.”

Rick turned. Tears were running down his face. He stared hard at Hal. “You know, I bet you do. I’ll have to do something about that.”

“I hope you can. Son.”

Rick grinned viciously, but it had nothing to do with humor. He had no defenses left against this man, this Endicott. “You’re not going to let me find a way around you, are you?”

Hal’s eyes sparkled. “Nope.”

Rick sobered and gave Hal a beseeching look. How could he fight against something he wanted so desperately himself? He bowed his head and leaned toward Hal.

Hal settled his hands on Rick’s shoulders and studied his bent head. “You’re home, if you want us,” Hal said. “Because we sure want you.”

Rick’s throat tightened again. He couldn’t speak, but he had to let Hal know how he really felt. He slid his arms around Hal’s waist and grasped him tightly. Then, for the second time since his mother had left, Rick felt safe. It was the same happy, secure contentment he remembered in his dream.

Rick buried his head on Hal’s shoulder as the sobs he could no longer control tore through his throat and loosened his vocal cords. “I want to stay with you! Please don’t send me away!”

Hal smiled softly as he tried to quiet Rick. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I couldn’t let you go now. Don’t you know that?” Hal sobered. “No, you wouldn’t. But I’ll take care of that. It doesn’t matter what title the court gives me, foster father or guardian, to me you’ll just be my son.”

Hal thought of how Rick had protected him and Lori, of what feelings had inspired that devotion, and of how he’d nearly lost all of that through his own stupid pride. “You’re some hell of a kid, do you know that?” Hal’s voice sounded unsteady itself. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I thank God He sent you my way. He’s always given me real good kids.” His hand shielded the back of Rick’s head. “Hang on a little longer, Rick. I’ll try to deserve your trust.” He pulled Rick closer. “We’ll make it work, son,” he vowed. “We’ll be all right now.” A sense of peace flowed through him. Holding Rick seemed so natural, so comfortable, so right.

Rick knew he’d found the father he’d always wanted, and he dared to say what was in his heart. His lips were close to Hal’s ear, and only Hal heard what he whispered. “I, I love you. I love you!”

Hal squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “I love you, too, boy,” he answered huskily. “And I’ve been torturing myself by not owning up to it, but no more. You became my son when Lori married you, and I guess I like that just fine.”

Hal let Rick cry himself out. Their mutual reassurances was more important than Rick’s rest. People coming in and out of the hospital stared at them, but Hal didn’t care. All that mattered was his new son. Besides, he had so much to tell Rick.

Now that he’d started his confession, Hal felt a desperate urge to continue. Words poured out of him, words that he’d spoken before to Rick. But Rick had been unconscious then and couldn’t answer back. Hal was vulnerable now, but he trusted Rick not to hurt him. And with the words and the trust came the final healing.

Rick cleaned himself up, but continued to lie in Hal’s arms, listening to the low monotone of Hal’s voice and being soothed by the gentle touch of Hal’s hands rubbing his back. He wasn’t even conscious of what Hal was saying. He merely loved the sound of Hal’s voice. Besides, he’d heard it all before, somewhere. It all sounded so beautifully familiar.

Hal was apologizing. Rick knew it was important to Hal so he let him talk. But all that mattered to Rick was the present and Hal’s arms around him. He smiled in contentment, closed his eyes, and snuggled his head on the shoulder of a man he both loved and respected. At last he felt the security and affection he’d craved from his own father, but never received. And he felt he’d given Hal something in return, something that was both wanted and needed.

Someday, Rick and Hal would have to talk without emotion about themselves and Rick’s father. There were so many things that Rick had to apologize for, too. But today he was merely going to enjoy himself.

Hal eventually patted Rick on the back and grinned. “Ready now, you smart-lipped kid?”

Rick kept his head on Hal’s shoulder a moment longer, then straightened and grinned, too. He saw in Hal’s eyes the same warmth and admiration he knew must be shining in his own. “Okay, Pops, let’s get with it.”

Hal looked stern. “Pops? What’s wrong with my own name? I do have one, you know.”

“Hal?” Rick’s grin broadened. “Hal, Hal, Hal, Hal!”

Hal’s eyes sparkled and his stern mouth melted with affection. “How in the hell am I ever going to make you mind?”

Rick gazed solemnly into Hal’s eyes. “It won’t be a problem.”

“I know,” Hal whispered back.

Rick grinned shyly. “Now where’s this home I’ve heard so much about? I think I’m going to like it there.”

Hal smiled. “I sure hope so, son.” He held the door open for Rick.

Behind them, Gwen wiped away a tear as she watched the two smiling men step into the afternoon sunshine.

Rick drew his arm around Hal’s waist, then paused as he looked back for Gwen. He smiled and held open his other arm to her. “Come on, Sis! We’re going home!”

Gwen hurried to catch up.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Richard Douglas (Rick) Medina in this story does not in any way refer to Ricardo Medina, Jr. who is a former Power Ranger.


End file.
